AGE PLOT SHENANIGANS

[microbrobotics]

WHO: Everyone and anyone!
WHERE: De Chima, various
WHEN: Around 6 PM EST, March 25th
WHAT: Age plot kickoff!
WARNINGS: Cuteness.

[ LET'S GET THIS PARTY OFFICIALLY STARTED! Opening events so we don't do too much comm flooding (although people are welcome to make their own posts for the event). You're welcome to toplevel with your character if you'd like to have them show up somewhere else for this plot.

Current toplevels:
Spring Festival in a De Chima city park
De Chima #1
De Chima #1, later (Minato)

The age plot will run from March 25th through Sunday, March 29th. More deets available at the plotting post. ]

Comments

festival!

[footnoting]

[Unlike about 99% of the humans at the festival, Bartimaeus had heard the shock wave before it actually hit. Which is why he'd sort of. Uh. Took the skies to see what the real threat was. And subsequently abandoned Kitty to the chaos of whatever it was that's happening.

So... here's hoping that Kitty won't at all be surprised by the fact that there's a peregrine falcon suddenly landing at the edge of a nearby food table, feathers ruffled in general distaste for all the kids suddenly wandering around. Eventually, though, he turns an amused eye toward her.]

Well. This brings back pleasant memories.

[Try not to react too violently?]

I AM DELIGHTED

[kittenjones]

[ Bartimaeus. She knows that's the demon's name. And she feels a wash of affection and respect that comes with it. She feels the emotional weight of Bartimaeus as a lioness curled up under her, supporting her as she struggled with her pain. She feels the gratitude from Bartimaeus, the demon, speaking the truth to her, helping her find her path. She can feel that, but it feels like the emotions of someone else - it's not the sort of happiness, gratitude she feels. It feels forced into her. It feels alien.

She doesn't feel...right.

She isn't hostile to him. But there's certainly a hardness that wasn't there before, a stiff and bristling mistrust. Demons are the tools of magicians, they fill our heads and hearts with lies - That feels more like a comfortable, familiar truth than this is Bartimaeus, who curled up beside you in a hospital bed. ]

And what memories are those?

[ If there's some mismatch, if there's some lie, then that may point to the source of her unease... ]

AND I AM A SLOW, SLOW SLUG

[footnoting]

[While Kitty is struggling with those pesky emotions and warring truths and, quite likely, having some deep and troubling existential crisis, all Bartimaeus is struggling with is a little piece of wood that's trying its best to stab into one of his feet.

The suffering they both go through.]

None you should be concerned with, if you don't remember. [Though he's pretty sure she should. Didn't she mention it at one point? Recognizing the dark-skinned youth she and her goons had so rudely tried to mug during the whole Lovelace business?] Though I suppose we should both be grateful you're not in need of a nanny.

[Which. Is funny. Since that's basically what Bartimaeus has become thanks to Kitty's knack for almost getting herself killed.]

but a really cute one with adorable little wavey eyestalks

[kittenjones]

[ There's a bubbling upwell of anger and frustration. Of the things she needs right now, Bartimaeus' familiar (familiar? is it?) reticence isn't one of them. Of course she remembers him. She remembers him concretely as a demon in an alley, that demon that sent up those flares that brought the Night Police down on them. That got Tim arrested. (But she knows, too, that that wasn't his fault - that it was just the risk they ran, and there was no crime in Bartimaeus defending himself. She doesn't hold any anger against him for that. Does she? Because she remembers feeling nothing but warmth and affection towards him, but she also remembers huddling with Martin and Fred and Stan after, staring out into the drippy night, waiting for Tim to come back, hating the demon that had done this...)

And then there's him, sitting in that abandoned library, telling her about civilizations come and gone. That feels fake. And Bartimaeus, face melancholy in memory of Ptolemy. That feels fake, too.

She lifts her hands and digs her thumbs into the bridge of her nose until sparks pop behind her eyes. The discomfort...doesn't help. She still feels as disoriented. She still feels wrong. ]

I remember you.

[ Her voice is hard, low. Bossy and self-assured, in contrast to the slumped misery of her posture. ]

I remember everything about you. I just need to know if we remember the same things. So tell me.