TYL BACKLOG POST

[soul_mods]

Characters: OPEN
Location: Everywhere
Rating: R
Time: Between October 2009 to August 2019
Description: What happened between the present time and ten years later?

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October 21st, 2014 | Beyond Factory 1 | CLOSED

[blue_darkslayer]

A report had been delivered regarding an interloper openly approaching the facility, with accompanying orders handed down to the Kishin Vergil Sparda to intercept them and, if deemed appropriate, eliminate them. It was merely a nuance; it was always appropriate to annihilate anybody idiotic or suicidal enough to so much as look into the territory of the Witches. Without complaint, the Kishin had complied and immediately set off down the mountains at a rapid pace. He knew the terrain well, as he had often found himself sent on simple search-and-destroy assignments such as this. The facility had no need for patrols, only hunters. Anybody approaching would be seen by the watchers long before they made it anywhere near 'close

[soulparadox]

So hungry. So hungry. His hands pressed against his stomach as he had not been able to acquire enough souls lately. It was why the thought came to him that there were plenty of souls at the facility. Plenty of witches' souls. Nataku felt his mouth water and let it be as it was. No longer in the care of anyone, forced to spend his time in the Madness Wave, he would have been surprised that he could make any sort of logical thought process. Logical being the hesitant word used as he dragged himself to where he knew that souls were - occasionally licking his lips in a haphazard manner when his salivating became a bit too much.

The clothes that he wore were tattered and more than a little worn. They were the same ones that he had killed Tassadar and later Watson in a few years ago. It was not as though he could acquire other clothes. It was not as though he needed them, either. So hungry. So scared. So scared. His arms jerked slightly as he walked shifting to their weaponized form and back at random. Kamui. Altair. Their names filtered

[blue_darkslayer]

Having crested a ledge several meters above, Vergil glanced downwards as he detected not so much movement, but the flailing limbs as something closer to beast than human was barreling headlong towards him. Another berserker Kishin, I suppose. It certainly hadn't been the first, but Vergil was torn between disappointment and anticipation. He preferred the souls of Weapons and Meisters, but he often found that Kishin tended to make for more enjoyable fights. They didn't run nor hide; they fought until they were dead or simply incapable of moving, and they possessed much greater stamina and resilience. He could take his time and enjoy this.

First, he had to take control. Gauging the distance between him and the creature and measuring its approximate reach (that tendril of shadow may be able to extend further), Vergil sprang, ran partway along an adjacent cliff wall and dropped down fluidly to a lower ledge, lining himself up with the Kishin. His right hand gripped Cambion tightly and he settled back into an iaido stance, preparing to

[soulparadox]

Not a witch. Need the witches's souls. The fear and the hunger were distorting his thoughts that much more. Get it out of the way. Cold thought slipped through and stayed within his mind along with the other disjointed thoughts. The immediate threat was to kill the Kishin in front of him. Eat its soul. Devour the souls it holds. Move to the next. If it were not for the fact that his movements were less than fluid, one could almost think that he was thinking logical and not just that of a crazed Kishin.

Up the mountain. Need to get to the facility. The souls. So hungry. His thoughts abruptly ceased as soon as the first attack came his way. The shadow tendrils snapped out to the mountainside, wrapping itself around a ledge far out of the way of the strike, before abruptly jerking Nataku toward it. Out of the way, but dragged just a bit across the terrain to get to safety. The force of the attack whipped past his head, almost deafening him in the process. He turned his head slightly at the buzzing, but otherwise ignored it. His left

Sept 2009// Shortly after hearing about Spirit// Colette's room// Open

[oblivious_klutz]

Colette couldn't believe it when she had heard. Spirit. Dead. He'd been the one to welcome them, when they had arrived, along with Ms Asuza and Maka that had helped her. He had been so lively and friendly to everyone and now. He was dead. She could only imagine what Maka was going through right now, as she herself allowed a few tears to escape before wiping at them. Now was not the time for crying. She had to be strong, to help everyone else through this. The least she could do was try to cheer up the others, right? She hoped Shishito hadn't seen her upset in her bedroom, crying into her pillow. It hadn't been too bad though, she hoped, her eyes didn't look too red or anything at least.

[November 2010][Shizuo's Underground Room][closed]

[enliventheworld]

[Haruhi is excited beyond words. This is her big chance, her crowning moment of awesome! Even after a year at Shibusen, she hasn't found anyone to compete with Celty... But now she can try the next best thing. Shizuo. He finally decided to give in to her begging to try him out. She thinks that she is going to have a really awesome weapon starting right about now.

And that is why she marches into Shizuo's room without knocking. She tries to calm herself down to a reasonable level, but fails miserably.]

Shizuo! Are you ready? Are your stop-sign transformation abilities ready to go?

[enliventheworld]

[Shizuo's lack of optimism goes unnoticed by Haruhi. She's too busy composing herself and trying to get ready for a rush of awesome. She's resonated with other weapons, sure, but she's 100% sure that this time will be more powerful and more meaningful than any of the others.]

Then, let's go!

[She sticks her hand out firmly. Though she considers just grabbing his hand, she knows him well enough to give him some space in this ordeal.]

2016. Shizuo & Ed's Room. Closed-ish.

[everyonecried]

It might not have been the best of times or the worst of times, but it was the time of something. As long as that something meant kicking back on a sofa, one arm over the back and another resting on a mug - it'd disappear somewhere around the second bottle, splitting up drinks be forgotten - and generally taking an evening off, Hughes was alright with it. More than alright with it.

Actually, it might as well have been the best of times right then, because they actually had something decent to drink and nothing at all, whether it be mole, kishin or witch, had made the roof cave in this week.

Truly, the best of times.

"Hey, Shizuo." And he'd thought those were odd names, once-upon-a-time -- not a time to think on, even though those had a good number of 'best of times' too, because this best of time worked out best for the current situation. That round-about thought passed in and out of his mind in under a second, and all he got out of it was the vague note that hey, I might be getting a buzz already. "Where's your favorite place to

What else would they do. Watch football? Pfff.

[everyonecried]

"Everyone, hm." Murmur around the rim of his own drink, foot tapping a bit against the floor. His eyes were up toward the ceiling, as if contemplative, though you could bet he'd be looking back down toward Shizuo's (very girly, if he might say so, which he didn't except for during heightened times of poking-fun) drink. Very soon-- that little moment of quiet evaporated pretty quickly, as he redirected his eyes off of the ceiling, sitting up a bit more when the former bartender pulled out the shaker. And... orange juice

[JANUARY 2013][SHIBUSEN INFIRMARY][OPEN]

[forthecamera]

Rise had been stuck in the infirmary for a good week now. No, she wasn't injured, nor was she ill, but it hadn't been the easiest of births given the circumstances. Everyone had lost a bit of weight since things started going downhill, and she had always been a rather small girl--well, woman now, to begin with. Still, despite the difficulty both she and her child had managed, and they were both recovering.

She held her now, in her arms, a tiny little girl that they had given the name Himeko after her Persona, and the name Ottawa over the heart of Canada.

She leaned over her, face bright and smile a great smile stretching across her face as she looked down at her baby. She was so tiny and only had a single curl of red hair atop her head. Rise leaned in close to her, singing lightly in Japanese, and then French small lullabies she had made up during those nine turbulent months. Her voice mixed with giggles and carried throughout the empty infirmary.