(you can pm me here or on plurk if you'd like to beforehand, but also if you'd just like to drop something at my doorstep with no preamble please do!!)
[ The sudden flame and the feigned shots cause the Shadows to tense, a hair trigger away from beginning a battle. Maruki feels feverish all over with confusion – the sight of this person, the way they speak to him, their ability to conjure what appears to be the threat of a magical attack without the use of a Persona. He doesn't want a fight. He doesn't want anyone here.
But someone is. A hundred thoughts race through his head all at once, searching out the possibility of anyone who could break free from his reality and track him down aside from the Phantom Thieves. It makes no sense, none at all, but– ]
Are you one of Shido's men?
[ He knows it's wrong even as he says it. There is something… there is something. He leans farther over the railing, squints to get a good look at the man. The fangs are severely unsettling and give him a thought that this might be a rogue cognition, a sign of something wrinkled up not quite right between the two worlds.
And then: the eyes.
The faintest flicker of memory across the whirring mess that is his mind. His phone occasionally acting strangely, gold eyes blinking too quickly for him to take a screenshot for proof that he wasn't going crazy. And that all started after– ]
[ His first response is only to shake his head, placid. The novelty of wavy black hair around his skull is something to note, causing an absent hand to drift up and comb long dark nails through his tresses. Shido... Oh yes, that man. Dull, by Ábramar's standards. Like a one trick pony. What's the point in world domination if you're just a boring guy? Honestly Abby's over it. His First Friend here is far more interesting. ]
You do know me, Doctor. Though I never did show you my face. I still haven't, come to think of it. Would you like me to show you? [ he doesn't answer the question he'd been posed, though. Just leaves Maruki with that new one to chew and stew on.
He can sense the aggression of the Shadows and it nags his curiosity, though his focus does narrow and burn almost exclusively on the master of the realm. He holds a deliberate quiet, in deviant refusal of providing any more information.
Sorry, Maruki. Sicking your Shadows on a guy who breaks and enters into your mind would be more than fair, all things considered. ]
[ It certainly would be warranted, and he can tell the Shadows are itching for the fight, but they wait at his command. Or Azathoth's. And Azathoth is quiet in the back of his mind, watchful. Almost like he recognizes more than Maruki does.
Maruki holds his gaze just as firmly, willing the pieces that are slowly making themselves known to begin to assemble into an identifiable shape.
The nails, the fangs, the eyes. The confirmation. And the implication that this isn't his real face.
Disguising oneself inside a Palace is a power all to itself. One that he wasn't aware anyone had.
He tightens his grip on the railing, straightens up and sets his shoulders down and back. This could go very badly, very quickly. He won't let any harm befall this place, all his hard work. Perhaps asking for the truth will be a disastrous mistake, but an unknown infiltrator is worse. ]
[ Ah-ha, but maybe Abby fits just a little more neatly into this reality than it first seems. He waits though, silently willing his friend to grant him the dare. It's no fun dishing out chaos if no one asked for it. And though the Behemoth doesn't quite understand it, something under his skin is itching for what he's about to do.
Eyes that look too much like the purest possible gold slant meaningfully to the hand mimed in the shape of a gun. He lifts the appendage and turns it, back and forth, with an overplayed, thoughtful frown. He 'pulls the trigger' by wiggling his thumb but nothing seems to happen, aside from the tiny flame at the tip giving a stuttering little flicker.
Then, a look on his face of enlightened understanding. His gaze bores into Maruki's, silently daring him not to look away. A game of chicken it is, as he lifts his hand to point his 'gun' at his own temple. The moment hangs for an extended beat.
The air around him shatters like glass when he pulls the trigger again.
And he's still standing there, dark clothing kicked up in the impossible winds and fragmented reality as a very large shadowy shape bursts from the other side of his skull like a mini black hole. It flows like liquid-air and forms into the shape of his Behemoth body, but translucent and flickering. Some impossible combination of darkness, light, smoke, and gold.
While the details of his Behemoth body don't quite translate into this new form, not yet, the eyes are what's most noticeable. The three on the massive Pseudo-Persona's face almost exactly like the ones that had flashed, on more than one occasion, across Maruki's phone.
The Shadow Behemoth smiles in tandem with its summoner; they have the same eyes, the same claws, the same fangs. A thick tail, like a lobster as much as a snake, curls comfortably around Abby's human projection.
The smile he shoots Maruki now is nothing short of dizzy glee. ]
Please tell me you remember me now. It has been a while, but I certainly didn't forget you.
on god abby if he knew the kids from iwatodai he would be PANICKED
His eyes go wide when the make believe gun is brought up, and he recoils at the shot, but he never once looks away.
His heart stutters rabbit-fast against his ribcage as the beast begins to take shape. It's like nothing he has ever seen before; Maruki isn't yet aware that the way he awoke to his power, his Persona, is the unusual outlier. The Phantom Thieves would recognize this more readily than he does, even without the use of a mask. But for his part, he can only gape uselessly at this monstrous creature, this–
Behemoth.
The Shadows behind him begin to take their true forms as well, the humanoid facades bursting away to reveal two Hastur and a Macabre. Maruki finally breaks eye contact to whip around, arms flung out at his sides and voice not wholly his own: ]
No.
[ That warped, iridescent shimmer through the air that signals Azathoth's power briefly blankets the top level of the entrance hall. It's enough to subdue the Shadows, then dissolve them into the black particulate matter that they all come from. They will reform where they are needed, back in the exam room, and continue to carry out their work. Their presence isn't necessary here.
Maruki is left alone on the landing and turns back again to take in the sight, phenomenally strange and yet somehow less grotesque than he would have expected from their conversations.
Neither a Shadow nor a Persona. Maruki steps away from the railing to the top of the staircase for a better view and grins down at both forms. ]
Ábramar, my friend.
[ Of course he remembers. It would be impossible not to. One doesn't get contacted by a god – the second one to do so, at that – and forget it.
But remembrance does not grant him understanding. He laughs, disbelieving, and folds his arms over his chest. ]
[ Brave, and bold. Ábramar is pleased to the grit of his atoms that his friend watches the entire show-- or friends, is it? It feels like there's something-- maybe someone else beyond and behind those obedient shadows, somewhere. Or is it everywhere? He can't exactly tell. And as much as a good fight would have keyed him up, he's also just delighted Maruki's recognition of him should also come with the instinct to protect him.
Impressive, how some unspoken will dissolves the attack dogs into motes of darkness. This reality is so mailable, interlaced with an odd, reality warping quality Ábramar has never encountered, outside of being like himself. ]
Ah, you do remember me.
[ When Maruki turns back to face the railing, the massive Behemoth's Shadow is suddenly much closer. One pair of tree-trunk arms crossed, and slung casually over the balcony. Another pair of arms above that prop the Behemoth-Sona's jaw on a pair of curled hands. He still isn't quite solid, but the flecks of gold that flow through his liquid-smoke body all gather on his face to form a delighted, if slightly hungry crescent of a grin. ]
Accidentally! I wasn't sure I could fit through the rivets I felt, the seams that seemed like someone else was sliding in.
[ a trio of golden eyes on Ábramar's real face trace his friend's form from face to toes and back again. Every moment seems to flip which aspect feels in control (the human, or his Persona) while the other seems the puppet. ]
You seem different. What have you been up to? [ said like he's more than eager to spill the tea.]
[ Ah, Abby. If only you could have met him when he was his old dorky self. He has become more shrewd since the new year, no less genuinely empathetic but far less prone to self-deprecation and jokes. Calm in the way of self-assurance rather than a means to set others at ease.
Then again, if they had met before, he would have been openly terrified of this approximation of Ábramar's true form. As it stands, Maruki only surveys him with curiosity and a gentle sort of appreciation. He has had time to become used to creatures whose forms are outside of his human comprehension, and the scientist in him finds them utterly fascinating. He lets Ábramar drape over the balcony without complaint and stands placidly before him, observing him just as keenly in return.
This is– definitely still strange, but not unwelcome. Maruki hasn't stopped to consider his own feelings since the work began in earnest on Christmas Eve, but if he did, he would likely recognize a deepening loneliness. It's necessary for his plan to succeed, but even in the slow ascent to godhood he is still all too human, and his isolation from everyone but the Shadows and Azathoth has been difficult. In the past month, his only interaction with other humans has been in opposition.
Ábramar isn't human, of course, but he is a friend. That scratches the itch that Maruki barely realized was so painful.
The question makes him laugh again, just loudly enough to bounce off the cavernous room's white walls. ]
A lot, to say the least. I'd like to tell you about it – but perhaps not here.
[ The last thing he needs is for the Phantom Thieves to reenter and continue their plundering of the place, and immediately come face to face with Maruki and an all knowing, all seeing, lobster-snake god.
His mouth twists thoughtfully, unsure if Ábramar could move to a different part of the Palace while retaining this form – nothing against the golden-eyed human, of course, but he's always more comfortable seeing someone for who they truly are. ]
There's a garden that's better suited for conversation, if you can find a way to join me.
[ It's stated as a friendly challenge as much as it is an invitation. Show him what you can do, Abby. ]
Edited (wow my brain is soup what are words) 2024-05-03 06:35 (UTC)
[ Being feared, admired, or appreciated are all tastes the Behemoth enjoys, depending on his current whim; currently he's not quite preening under the (now) unflinching eyes of his friend. Yes, Behold Me. The center eye in his forehead blinks-- or does it wink?
Watching his companion as he is watched, Ábramar can't help but recall his previous assessment of the man. 'A Martyr with the Ego of a God.' Certainly still fits... and Maruki wears it well. Yanking his favorite element more or less out of the cosmic equation would not have been the Behemoth's first choice of Flavor of Havoc-- but that's part of what makes it all so interesting.
Honestly, the good Doctor is far much more colorful and fascinating than the typical mortal thread of 'money and power, bitch'. No wonder his own mysterious Wish Granter saw fit to comply. If changing the course of History is a 'decent project' for a Behemoth, creating and alchemizing realities that defy Cosmic Physics is really something to brag about. Just grandiosity, such greatness of ego!
But, Oops, Abby is starring (with less gentle appreciation) and his smile widens when Maruki's agreement to chat gently brings him back to the moment. The Behemoth tips his head in agreement, not quite genteel, and shifts through the air like it's water. He turns, offers a hand that seems to shimmer less and less, approaching an odd dusty-purple shade of nebula. Ábramar's human form steps onto the waiting palm, elegantly grasping the claw off the Persona's thumb like it's nothing more than an accommodating handlebar.
He then carries himself up over the railing of the balcony, and deposits himself neatly beside his friend. Just as it seems to be taking solid shape, the massive Behemoth Form dissolves into little motes of sooty darkness (through that golden grin is last to go).
When Ábramar's human form turns a placidly expectant look to his host, the third golden eye remains visible on his forehead. He's got to look up at Maruki, by the just the slightest inclining tip of his jaw, but he still wears the much smaller body like he's larger than life.]
Then I'll defer to the master of the domain [ One hand gives a smooth, inviting wave for Maruki to show him where to go. ] Shall we?
don't mind me handwaving his palace's bitch of a layout
[ For a moment he thinks – hopes, with the sick thrill of a man who has come to appreciate unknowable beasts – that the colossal Behemoth will solidify, and then he's gone, golden Cheshire grin lingering in the air just long enough for Maruki to wonder if this has happened before. Not this, exactly, this type of full blown manifestation. But if there have been other times that signs of Ábramar have blinked in and out of his reality.
His old reality.
There is so much to explain. ]
Come, this way.
[ The Palace is massive, sprawling and pristine. It has taken the Phantom Thieves several visits and a tremendous amount of painful work to manage to fight their way into the garden – hours spent winding up spiral staircases, through exam rooms, into the tight and dark corridors behind the scenes, pawing through boxes of his own memories, arguing with each other over puzzles, consulting maps, doubling back, leaving and returning again and again.
But this is, for all intents and purposes, Maruki's home. He has not left the Metaverse since Christmas Eve. Outside of one trip that he knows he needs to make, to pay a visit to that humble cafe, he doesn't intend to leave until the fusion of Mementos and the real world is complete – and even then, even after his new world is born, he can't imagine he'll leave more than occasionally.
It is of his design, and he has come to know every inch of it as if it were his own flesh and blood. Even the parts that he had let mutate to better suit Yoshizawa still belong to him. Ábramar is right in calling him the master of the domain, and the master of the domain has special privileges.
He leads Ábramar through the lobby doors and into the entrance hall, with its great swaths of golden cables and its cognitions puttering around, and speaks as they walk purposefully up toward the center of the room. ]
I did wonder if you would still be able to contact me after I began to change this reality. I should have known that a little thing like that wouldn't stop you – in fact, it seems that it's only made it easier for you to make yourself known. That was an unintended effect on my part, but I have to say it's a happy one– ah, here we are.
[ 'Here they are' is an elevator, like any other in the place. When the Phantom Thieves went through it, it took them to yet another level to weave around and battle Shadows.
Maruki presses a hand against the door, and that wave of iridescence returns, like the hazy mirage of a hot day. Azathoth has created these shortcuts for him, and there is none that he uses more often than this. When he is implored to step away from his work and rest, there is only one place that he wants to do it.
It doesn't take them to the next level. It transports them directly to the very heart of his psientific model Eden, sprawling and lush, teeming with wildflowers in all colors. The grand marble gazebo that they exit onto at one end, and the massive Tree of Knowledge at the other. His heart lifts to see it, shoulders untensing and breath coming easier.
Maruki smiles at Ábramar then, warm and wide. ]
Welcome to paradise, my friend. I really am so glad you could make it.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
MORE THAN FINE I ADORE HIM
But someone is. A hundred thoughts race through his head all at once, searching out the possibility of anyone who could break free from his reality and track him down aside from the Phantom Thieves. It makes no sense, none at all, but– ]
Are you one of Shido's men?
[ He knows it's wrong even as he says it. There is something… there is something. He leans farther over the railing, squints to get a good look at the man. The fangs are severely unsettling and give him a thought that this might be a rogue cognition, a sign of something wrinkled up not quite right between the two worlds.
And then: the eyes.
The faintest flicker of memory across the whirring mess that is his mind. His phone occasionally acting strangely, gold eyes blinking too quickly for him to take a screenshot for proof that he wasn't going crazy. And that all started after– ]
No. I know you. Tell me how I know you.
no subject
You do know me, Doctor. Though I never did show you my face. I still haven't, come to think of it. Would you like me to show you? [ he doesn't answer the question he'd been posed, though. Just leaves Maruki with that new one to chew and stew on.
He can sense the aggression of the Shadows and it nags his curiosity, though his focus does narrow and burn almost exclusively on the master of the realm. He holds a deliberate quiet, in deviant refusal of providing any more information.
Sorry, Maruki. Sicking your Shadows on a guy who breaks and enters into your mind would be more than fair, all things considered. ]
no subject
Maruki holds his gaze just as firmly, willing the pieces that are slowly making themselves known to begin to assemble into an identifiable shape.
The nails, the fangs, the eyes. The confirmation. And the implication that this isn't his real face.
Disguising oneself inside a Palace is a power all to itself. One that he wasn't aware anyone had.
He tightens his grip on the railing, straightens up and sets his shoulders down and back. This could go very badly, very quickly. He won't let any harm befall this place, all his hard work. Perhaps asking for the truth will be a disastrous mistake, but an unknown infiltrator is worse. ]
Show me.
no subject
Eyes that look too much like the purest possible gold slant meaningfully to the hand mimed in the shape of a gun. He lifts the appendage and turns it, back and forth, with an overplayed, thoughtful frown. He 'pulls the trigger' by wiggling his thumb but nothing seems to happen, aside from the tiny flame at the tip giving a stuttering little flicker.
Then, a look on his face of enlightened understanding. His gaze bores into Maruki's, silently daring him not to look away. A game of chicken it is, as he lifts his hand to point his 'gun' at his own temple. The moment hangs for an extended beat.
The air around him shatters like glass when he pulls the trigger again.
And he's still standing there, dark clothing kicked up in the impossible winds and fragmented reality as a very large shadowy shape bursts from the other side of his skull like a mini black hole. It flows like liquid-air and forms into the shape of his Behemoth body, but translucent and flickering. Some impossible combination of darkness, light, smoke, and gold.
While the details of his Behemoth body don't quite translate into this new form, not yet, the eyes are what's most noticeable. The three on the massive Pseudo-Persona's face almost exactly like the ones that had flashed, on more than one occasion, across Maruki's phone.
The Shadow Behemoth smiles in tandem with its summoner; they have the same eyes, the same claws, the same fangs. A thick tail, like a lobster as much as a snake, curls comfortably around Abby's human projection.
The smile he shoots Maruki now is nothing short of dizzy glee. ]
Please tell me you remember me now. It has been a while, but I certainly didn't forget you.
on god abby if he knew the kids from iwatodai he would be PANICKED
His eyes go wide when the make believe gun is brought up, and he recoils at the shot, but he never once looks away.
His heart stutters rabbit-fast against his ribcage as the beast begins to take shape. It's like nothing he has ever seen before; Maruki isn't yet aware that the way he awoke to his power, his Persona, is the unusual outlier. The Phantom Thieves would recognize this more readily than he does, even without the use of a mask. But for his part, he can only gape uselessly at this monstrous creature, this–
Behemoth.
The Shadows behind him begin to take their true forms as well, the humanoid facades bursting away to reveal two Hastur and a Macabre. Maruki finally breaks eye contact to whip around, arms flung out at his sides and voice not wholly his own: ]
No.
[ That warped, iridescent shimmer through the air that signals Azathoth's power briefly blankets the top level of the entrance hall. It's enough to subdue the Shadows, then dissolve them into the black particulate matter that they all come from. They will reform where they are needed, back in the exam room, and continue to carry out their work. Their presence isn't necessary here.
Maruki is left alone on the landing and turns back again to take in the sight, phenomenally strange and yet somehow less grotesque than he would have expected from their conversations.
Neither a Shadow nor a Persona. Maruki steps away from the railing to the top of the staircase for a better view and grins down at both forms. ]
Ábramar, my friend.
[ Of course he remembers. It would be impossible not to. One doesn't get contacted by a god – the second one to do so, at that – and forget it.
But remembrance does not grant him understanding. He laughs, disbelieving, and folds his arms over his chest. ]
How did you manage to find yourself here?
no subject
Impressive, how some unspoken will dissolves the attack dogs into motes of darkness. This reality is so mailable, interlaced with an odd, reality warping quality Ábramar has never encountered, outside of being like himself. ]
Ah, you do remember me.
[ When Maruki turns back to face the railing, the massive Behemoth's Shadow is suddenly much closer. One pair of tree-trunk arms crossed, and slung casually over the balcony. Another pair of arms above that prop the Behemoth-Sona's jaw on a pair of curled hands. He still isn't quite solid, but the flecks of gold that flow through his liquid-smoke body all gather on his face to form a delighted, if slightly hungry crescent of a grin. ]
Accidentally! I wasn't sure I could fit through the rivets I felt, the seams that seemed like someone else was sliding in.
[ a trio of golden eyes on Ábramar's real face trace his friend's form from face to toes and back again. Every moment seems to flip which aspect feels in control (the human, or his Persona) while the other seems the puppet. ]
You seem different. What have you been up to? [ said like he's more than eager to spill the tea.]
no subject
Then again, if they had met before, he would have been openly terrified of this approximation of Ábramar's true form. As it stands, Maruki only surveys him with curiosity and a gentle sort of appreciation. He has had time to become used to creatures whose forms are outside of his human comprehension, and the scientist in him finds them utterly fascinating. He lets Ábramar drape over the balcony without complaint and stands placidly before him, observing him just as keenly in return.
This is– definitely still strange, but not unwelcome. Maruki hasn't stopped to consider his own feelings since the work began in earnest on Christmas Eve, but if he did, he would likely recognize a deepening loneliness. It's necessary for his plan to succeed, but even in the slow ascent to godhood he is still all too human, and his isolation from everyone but the Shadows and Azathoth has been difficult. In the past month, his only interaction with other humans has been in opposition.
Ábramar isn't human, of course, but he is a friend. That scratches the itch that Maruki barely realized was so painful.
The question makes him laugh again, just loudly enough to bounce off the cavernous room's white walls. ]
A lot, to say the least. I'd like to tell you about it – but perhaps not here.
[ The last thing he needs is for the Phantom Thieves to reenter and continue their plundering of the place, and immediately come face to face with Maruki and an all knowing, all seeing, lobster-snake god.
His mouth twists thoughtfully, unsure if Ábramar could move to a different part of the Palace while retaining this form – nothing against the golden-eyed human, of course, but he's always more comfortable seeing someone for who they truly are. ]
There's a garden that's better suited for conversation, if you can find a way to join me.
[ It's stated as a friendly challenge as much as it is an invitation. Show him what you can do, Abby. ]
no subject
Watching his companion as he is watched, Ábramar can't help but recall his previous assessment of the man. 'A Martyr with the Ego of a God.' Certainly still fits... and Maruki wears it well. Yanking his favorite element more or less out of the cosmic equation would not have been the Behemoth's first choice of Flavor of Havoc-- but that's part of what makes it all so interesting.
Honestly, the good Doctor is far much more colorful and fascinating than the typical mortal thread of 'money and power, bitch'. No wonder his own mysterious Wish Granter saw fit to comply. If changing the course of History is a 'decent project' for a Behemoth, creating and alchemizing realities that defy Cosmic Physics is really something to brag about. Just grandiosity, such greatness of ego!
But, Oops, Abby is starring (with less gentle appreciation) and his smile widens when Maruki's agreement to chat gently brings him back to the moment. The Behemoth tips his head in agreement, not quite genteel, and shifts through the air like it's water. He turns, offers a hand that seems to shimmer less and less, approaching an odd dusty-purple shade of nebula. Ábramar's human form steps onto the waiting palm, elegantly grasping the claw off the Persona's thumb like it's nothing more than an accommodating handlebar.
He then carries himself up over the railing of the balcony, and deposits himself neatly beside his friend. Just as it seems to be taking solid shape, the massive Behemoth Form dissolves into little motes of sooty darkness (through that golden grin is last to go).
When Ábramar's human form turns a placidly expectant look to his host, the third golden eye remains visible on his forehead. He's got to look up at Maruki, by the just the slightest inclining tip of his jaw, but he still wears the much smaller body like he's larger than life.]
Then I'll defer to the master of the domain [ One hand gives a smooth, inviting wave for Maruki to show him where to go. ] Shall we?
don't mind me handwaving his palace's bitch of a layout
His old reality.
There is so much to explain. ]
Come, this way.
[ The Palace is massive, sprawling and pristine. It has taken the Phantom Thieves several visits and a tremendous amount of painful work to manage to fight their way into the garden – hours spent winding up spiral staircases, through exam rooms, into the tight and dark corridors behind the scenes, pawing through boxes of his own memories, arguing with each other over puzzles, consulting maps, doubling back, leaving and returning again and again.
But this is, for all intents and purposes, Maruki's home. He has not left the Metaverse since Christmas Eve. Outside of one trip that he knows he needs to make, to pay a visit to that humble cafe, he doesn't intend to leave until the fusion of Mementos and the real world is complete – and even then, even after his new world is born, he can't imagine he'll leave more than occasionally.
It is of his design, and he has come to know every inch of it as if it were his own flesh and blood. Even the parts that he had let mutate to better suit Yoshizawa still belong to him. Ábramar is right in calling him the master of the domain, and the master of the domain has special privileges.
He leads Ábramar through the lobby doors and into the entrance hall, with its great swaths of golden cables and its cognitions puttering around, and speaks as they walk purposefully up toward the center of the room. ]
I did wonder if you would still be able to contact me after I began to change this reality. I should have known that a little thing like that wouldn't stop you – in fact, it seems that it's only made it easier for you to make yourself known. That was an unintended effect on my part, but I have to say it's a happy one– ah, here we are.
[ 'Here they are' is an elevator, like any other in the place. When the Phantom Thieves went through it, it took them to yet another level to weave around and battle Shadows.
Maruki presses a hand against the door, and that wave of iridescence returns, like the hazy mirage of a hot day. Azathoth has created these shortcuts for him, and there is none that he uses more often than this. When he is implored to step away from his work and rest, there is only one place that he wants to do it.
It doesn't take them to the next level. It transports them directly to the very heart of his psientific model Eden, sprawling and lush, teeming with wildflowers in all colors. The grand marble gazebo that they exit onto at one end, and the massive Tree of Knowledge at the other. His heart lifts to see it, shoulders untensing and breath coming easier.
Maruki smiles at Ábramar then, warm and wide. ]
Welcome to paradise, my friend. I really am so glad you could make it.