Void Rift (rp) - Intermission

"Hm." Gaia says, sounding unimpressed.

 

"What kind of things does she make in there?"

 

“Okay, fine, can I at least spook people who come by me and sit in some dark forest if I get permission from some forest guardian?”

I dunno, ask her. We’re still standing in the hall for... I don’t know why.

 

"I will allow you to partake in the traditions performed on all hallow's eve. However, do not think I do not know what you have done." Gaia says.

 

“Why do you think I’m asking your permission? You know how I operate. Mostly.”

 

"So you can feel justified in your actions?" Gaia asks, as if teasing Iris.

 

“I don’t need your permission for that.” Iris giggles.

 

Gaia remains silent for a bit.

"Is that all you wished to ask?" Gaia asks.

 

“Well, now I’m curious just how much hatred you have for me.”

 

“Once again, I’ll stay here.”
I say, doing exactly that.

 

"You'll see." Gaia says, before cutting the connection and jolting Iris out of her meditative stance.

Iris' right wrist begins to hurt, and a small seed seems to be buried in it. Thorns sprout from it, wrapping around Iris' wrist in a bracelet.

 

“Suit yourself.”

After about a minute and a half, Zeo winds up warping back in.
“I suppose you already know my old name. Come, let’s get the tour over with.” His distorted voice utters.

Iris smiles, unfazed.
“Come on, let’s not do this in front of children.” She mumbles with a sly grin.

 

I'll walk down the hall.
"Rema? Are you here?"

 

There's no response.

 

“Lead the way.”
I gesture forward, ready to follow.

 

“No? Leaving me with a warning shot... alright. I suppose it’s fair, though things seem... less fragile than that.” She mumbles, standing up and poking at the thorn band.

Zeo turns and starts walking down the hall.
“Don’t call me Zeo. Clear?”

The hall is extremely short, Rema visible around her cauldron.
“Awake already? It’s barely sunrise.” She says, still focused on her brew.

 

She ends up poking a thorn into herself, which hurts a bit.

 

"I'm not interupting, am I?"

 

“Something something, past self, something something?”
I guess, following.

 

"...I like the look." She comments before warping away.

"Forced servitude is behind me. Do not remind me of the days I was alive." He says with a bit of a hostile tone.

"No, not really. Did you sleep well?"