chrollo lucilfer (
bookofpowers) wrote in
etrayalogs2024-11-05 04:28 pm
(OPEN/CATCH-ALL) can't commit to anything but a crime
WHO: chrollo lucilfer and you!
WHEN: november! i forgot what date it was when i wrote this.
WHERE: the apartment's recreation room, sector 5 church, nova city.
WHAT: a normal catch-all! drinking and making conversation in the recreational room, and snippets of his real self through the other locations!
NOTES\WARNINGS: i once again make mention of my opt-out for warnings, as they might come up. even so, i'll always warn on the subject line so you know what to expect within that tag!
WHEN: november! i forgot what date it was when i wrote this.
WHERE: the apartment's recreation room, sector 5 church, nova city.
WHAT: a normal catch-all! drinking and making conversation in the recreational room, and snippets of his real self through the other locations!
NOTES\WARNINGS: i once again make mention of my opt-out for warnings, as they might come up. even so, i'll always warn on the subject line so you know what to expect within that tag!

APARTMENTS - cw mentions of violence and murder, dehumanization, poverty and existence themes
although etraya lacks the piles of burning trash, the stench, the scorching sun, and the feeling of hopelessness, home is where chrollo's mind refuses to leave ever since he first heard his purpose in this place. 'to prove your world worthy of existence' feels like a tasteless and disgusting joke to someone from meteor city - to some such as himself, home, and to the world at large, a place to leave your trash and unwanted. a purgatory of ghosts, unknown to the world at large, unseen. nothing for the residents but to waste away counting their days, and nothing for them outside of it either.
no meaning.
which is why chrollo's entire existence has been about not proving himself worthy of it, but instead, painting the streets soaked in red to show it alongside the group born from the same despair. every murder, theft, and massacre, imprints a will that is selfless in nature and proof of living, the opportunity to be something when they were set to accomplish nothing. greater than the individual, greater than any system, and naturally, greater than chrollo himself. even completely separated from the phantom troupe, chrollo desires nothing less than to exert its will upon a world that dares question it. it's all that's left of him, after all.
but all has its time. with the fact that he hasn't been here long, there are too many questions unanswered: what does echo know about them? how have the missions been? who is here? what was the selection criteria? are they watching, and who would be an ally? he can't possibly show himself so soon.
it's been a while since chrollo had to stay in a role for so long, but he hasn't yet seen where the plot shifts, that point when the curtains close and he can put down the script he's been writing as he goes. the man he currently plays is kind, helpful, extroverted, and an academic - as to justify all the questions that he finds himself asking. today is no different, that impeccable and natural smile plastered on his face as the pool balls brush, and yet, none fall to add to his score. lost once again to the companion bots! how unfortunate.
he's here to gather information and make connections, so, the next person to pass by will get waved at.)
Hey! Are you any good at pool? These bots are merciless!
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with a tilt of her head, she looks left then right, and finally over to the voice that's waving to her — oh, him. the guy who's horrible at math problems. )
Why do you lie?
( again, he has tried to fool her with his attempts to impress her, or maybe he's never been trying to do that. instead, it could be that he isn't as knowledgeable of things much like her, or the world he comes from doesn't contain what she has. that's why as her eyes glance around for this supposed "pool", 37 is disappointed when she's unable to find it. )
There is no body of water to be seen.
( even with the bots being here, she can only find that they too are accomplices in the lie. they're not near a pool either! she looks to chrollo with an unimpressed expression, her brows furrowing... )
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a little too literal of a train of thought, though.)
No, no! It's the name of the game. See those are numbered from 1 to 15? Solid colors are 1 through 7, and stripes are the ones that are 9 through 15. You hit the white cue ball to pocket your colors, and when you're done, you have to pocket number 8. Whoever does this wins first. Want to give it a try?
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( that one is interesting she will give it that, her eyes staring at the table to find all the properly labeled like he says. the solid and the stripes, and though it's new to her, she walks over.
rather than play, she picks up the number 8, looking at the color of it before placing it back on the table exactly in the position she had picked it up from. )
But... why is it called pool when there is no water? They are numbers and not letters, it makes no sense!
( at least she's willing to learn. )
not me making up stuff
(although, how curious, how are the games in her island? perhaps it would appease her more if he exchanged the game for her liking.)
Would you like to play, or would you like to teach me something new?
actions will have consequences
I want to understand how this works.
( it's the equation placed before her, and the answer will be...? whatever it is, she walks over to the table with her hands resting on the side of it. she understands the length and width, and if the balls are to fall into the pockets then there's certain angles that they should be hit at .
37 likes that part, that's what makes this interesting. )
I can teach you how to play. I want to watch you and the bot.
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not what he's showing any here, hands together in thankfulness with an embarrassed smile on his face.)
Are you sure? I might be a lost cause.
(but he's restarting the game, leaving it ready for the bot to strike it first.)
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( rather than get a chair to spectate, 37 pulls herself up onto the pool table on the middle to right side. she's aware that they'll have to move around the table, so she's ready to push herself off if either of them come close to where she is. first, she watches the bot curiously at how it holds the pool stick, and where it begins to hit first in order to scatter the balls from one another.
they bounce against the walls edges, some not even making it close, but they're all branched out igniting the match's beginning. )
Which ball belongs to you, and which belongs to it?
( or should she keep watching, she doesn't know if it's still the bot's turn. her eyes are already in search for the number one as she wonders do they go in order, or if there's another pattern that she's not seeing. )
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(he can see there are a few possibilities for him, some obvious, some harder to achieve, but he'll move around the table a few times, as if he was trying to find a perfect angle to hit number '5' until he finds one that requires a larger force for it to hit the pocket. purposefully, there's hardly any strength in the way he hits, and it stops just at the entrance - a perfect opportunity for the bot to distance it from the score with the ones that are near it.)
Where's Six, by the way? Did you sneak out?
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cant believe im going this deep about fate on a pool game at 9am bless
i just think that scrazy it was 9 am and you werent napping
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cw terrorism violence and murder mentions
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the eeeend i assume
SECTOR 5 CHURCH
he could easily live here, if he doesn't find another living soul who inhabits it - it wouldn't be the first time for him, his hideouts tend to be just as intact as this one. after checking it room by room, his attention can finally fall on the beauty of the lillies glowing in the rays of sunshine.
debris on his clothes are not a concern, he can sit in front of the flowers with nothing but admiration... and he might as well pick one.
nothing else of worth stealing in this town until now, anyway.)
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There's no masking it, the sigh as the cold air from outside slips in through the crack that Gorgug makes. He pokes his head in first, green skin, black sclera on white pupils that peer in: he sees a figure by the flowers, a visible thing.
Oh. Is it Aerith? He doesn't bother to call out but instead lets himself in proper; steps in through the space, closes the door behind him. The interior of the church isn't what you would call warm (especially with the hole in the roof...), but it's polite, and Gorgug has some manners. He walks, a figure of 6'6", green-skinned and with a hunch to his shoulders; his steps slow, his hands close to his stomach and near to lacing, or fiddling, but not. ]
Aerith? [ It's not a shape that looks particularly like Aerith up ahead, but Gorgug still calls it out, cautious--more so for the fact that he expects Aerith, and she's someone he's come to see.
Because some people don't think to check a contact list first before making a trip to a derelict church. ]
the mental image i just had of chrollo as aerith.......
definitely not aerith. a man with a bandana around his forehead, large gray eyes and average style that looks back at--...? not unlike some of the people he's met here, nor too different from some one may find at home. uncommon, but not unheard of.
perhaps this church, falling apart as is, is someone else's comfort spot.)
... Apologies, I don't know an Aerith. There was nobody here when I first arrived...
i believe in it, chrollo (ββΏβ) you've got it
His steps slow to a stop, the answer given as well that makes Gorgug question what he's going to do. A small ] Oh [ that still manages to echo against the open space around them, or at least carries well in the church. He looks around, but then starts to walk again--as it would be a waste of a trip if he just turned immediately around, right? ]
That's okay... she takes care of the flowers here. I guess it's too cold, or-- I don't know if she's been coming out here. I haven't seen her in a while.
[ Because he hasn't seen many people he knows as of late, so his mind doesn't think to consider the possibility that she's gone. He's walked some pews closer to Chrollo, and truly, there doesn't seem to be anything imposing or hostile about the half-orc that's joined the church with him. There's no visible weaponry on him, and he's decided to shove his empty hands into the pocket of the hoodie he wears.
His gaze doesn't even sit on Chrollo for long, acknowledging him, but then darting down to not linger too long on his face. He's a little awkward. ]
Did you come here to pray?
https://i.imgur.com/tBdWZoE.png
he'll take note later, but now, there's a stranger addressing him, and he'll listen wholeheartedly.)
... I grew up somewhere similar, so I wanted the familiarity.
(for once, not a lie! it certainly did mark him in many ways - determinism, the saint peter's cross in the long coat he wore in his universe, the numbers of his followers, and symbolism in what he built.)
Are you a believer?
he's beautiful...................
I...don't have a god I follow, if that's what you mean? But I don't unbelieve anyone. [ A beat. ] I don't know who this church is for though. Do churches have to be for one god...?
[ He's trying to answer sincerely, he promises, and he's casting a look around again, as if he might see a name he just so happened to miss in big letters somewhere deeming which deity is meant to be worshipped. ]
AND he's grace
(although the concept seems to be grasped just right, he supposes. a quick look around, he sees nothing particularly telling to him about whether the religion practiced here is one he knows.)
I also can't tell, but I suppose it depends on the church and the people who lead it. Is your friend the preacher?
and he'll do something worse than punch you in the face
[ He points to said flowers that Chrollo had been admiring, and if the plucked flower is visible, he makes no comment on it being removed. He's not a flower guy; and if Aerith doesn't like people picking them, well, he doesn't know. ]
I don't know if she's religious. I guess-- she could be. Usually it's easy to tell when someone's religious. They're really into it.
[ But what is it like being religious in Etraya? Do they still feel godly things? Things Gorgug has never thought about, and probably won't when he leaves the church. ]
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really do thank you deeply for the exposition bless your heart
i am the loser who likes giving exposition, i like game talk
youre the exposition hero please lets get the roles right
i feel like chrollo dressed as aerith.... πΈ (also sorry for the delay, i got sick!)
please never worry about delays with me! take your time and enjoy the ride π
bless π
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he doesn't appear to notice that he has company as he makes his way into the dilapidated church, and a soft voice can be heard accompanying each footstep: ]
382... 383... 384... 385...
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he doesn't think he was followed, there's no feeling of tension, just... fate?)
Six?
(his low pitch travels in the echos of the building, his head turning to where the sound is coming from.)
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Mr. Chrollo.
[ he nods, offering that as his greeting in turn. his dress is different today — an elaborate toga traded for layered, modern shirts and a pair of jeans. he wears no other ornaments, and the thin gold crown from before seems to be the only thing that remains. ]
I apologize if I have intruded at an inopportune time. Do not allow me to distract you.
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(not a sight he was expecting to see. perhaps he expected six to be too deep in his ways to attempt something so contrasting to what he had shown until now, how interesting of a change. he misses his own attires, even if he sometimes prefers to wear skin rather than A DAMN SHIRT, but he does what he can with what etraya has for him in terms of outfits for today.)
You're never an intrusion. Feel free to enjoy the church.
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[ which, seeing as they are no longer on the island, included a change of clothes more appropriate for the weather in at least some ways. as it stands, 6 can't say he's entirely used to the way this style of clothing clings to him now, compared to the loose robes of apeiron. alas, chrollo seems to be more comfortable in his, at least, and for now, 6 finds his eyes are more drawn to the lilies blooming in the centre of the room than anything that either of them are wearing. ]
This is... one of the locations built on behalf of a resident?
[ a genuine question. it feels distinct from the city surrounding it. ]
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(there's a little noise once he stands, patting the outfit clear of dust and debris before he finds a pew to sit upon. even at a distance, it's a gorgeous view - the specks of dirt he raised waltzing against sunlight, falling and disappearing on the whiteness of the petals.
rather nice.)
... It does feel personal that way. Is there anything you're hoping will be built for you?
(there's a moment where his fingers move to the necklace he's wearing, almost fidgetting.)
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as for himself, 6 shakes his head. ]
I do not need such keepsakes of the phenomenal world.
[ as nice as they may be, it's not something he would go so far as to assert that he hopes for. rather, he'll turn the question on chrollo instead: ]
And yourself?
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consider that this means that jesus was a nen user
its ok tesla was an arcanist so it evens out
DAMN FAST FINGERS
NOVA CITY
that dragon and that egg are so far the most challenging thing chrollo laid eyes on, so they get his attention for tonight. besides, he doesn't think any of the people he has met thus far would find much interest in roaming the town late at night and it just happens to be perfect to hide in.
for once the bandana doesn't cover his forehead, the cross tattoo sitting right in the middle of it and visible with his hair parted in the middle, and the black of the outfit helps with the stealth.
except there's noise. whether it is a cat or a person is unknown, his gut reaction is to make his presence completely disappear. he can be heard and seen, but that feeling that there's someone there simply vanishes out of thin air.
curious, if you happen to know someone's there.)