08; voice/action
[what started out as a day spent very warily heading out to as many ends of the barrier as possible to get a better look at what's looming in the sky above them all-- despite the weather-- has abruptly ended upon the discovery of a mask that looks exactly like a certain housemate.]
[he'd meant to get the find home to ponder and discuss its meaning, whether it has any effects similar to the other masks he'd seen people wearing, but, well. Sora can vaguely remember some cryptic riddle regarding sating one's own curiosity the Cheshire Cat told him once, but thinking back on that memory just makes his brain twinge hotly in annoyance.]
[probably the most alarming limb of this new development is the fact that he can no longer feel either of his legs. there are a few resounding thonks as he raps his knuckles against something-- his shin, to be precise. it sounds almost as if he is knocking on a window. a moment later, he finally says something: it's a familiar voice, and so is the face that appears by it on the journal, but it certainly isn't Sora's. or perhaps it is. it all depends on what angle you consider it from.]
Has Luceti always been like this, or does the whole world just keep getting stranger as time goes on? [half curious, half annoyed, two-fifths uncertain and one-fifth outright upset. his voice is like a kid plunking notes on a piano in boisterous protest of his lessons.]
[a moment passes. his tone softens. Sora never really completely understood everything that happened back in his own world, but he understands well enough what's happening with him right now.] Well... Guys, if you see a mask that looks like someone you know, don't put it on, okay? But don't destroy it, either! Just-- hide it or something.
[should you be wandering the outskirts of the plaza, you may happen upon what looks like a black-haired girl, soaking wet from the rain, temporarily defeated in her attempts to pick herself up as her body crystallizes. nothing is ever as it seems, of course.]
[he'd meant to get the find home to ponder and discuss its meaning, whether it has any effects similar to the other masks he'd seen people wearing, but, well. Sora can vaguely remember some cryptic riddle regarding sating one's own curiosity the Cheshire Cat told him once, but thinking back on that memory just makes his brain twinge hotly in annoyance.]
[probably the most alarming limb of this new development is the fact that he can no longer feel either of his legs. there are a few resounding thonks as he raps his knuckles against something-- his shin, to be precise. it sounds almost as if he is knocking on a window. a moment later, he finally says something: it's a familiar voice, and so is the face that appears by it on the journal, but it certainly isn't Sora's. or perhaps it is. it all depends on what angle you consider it from.]
Has Luceti always been like this, or does the whole world just keep getting stranger as time goes on? [half curious, half annoyed, two-fifths uncertain and one-fifth outright upset. his voice is like a kid plunking notes on a piano in boisterous protest of his lessons.]
[a moment passes. his tone softens. Sora never really completely understood everything that happened back in his own world, but he understands well enough what's happening with him right now.] Well... Guys, if you see a mask that looks like someone you know, don't put it on, okay? But don't destroy it, either! Just-- hide it or something.
[should you be wandering the outskirts of the plaza, you may happen upon what looks like a black-haired girl, soaking wet from the rain, temporarily defeated in her attempts to pick herself up as her body crystallizes. nothing is ever as it seems, of course.]