Resume Play

[foundationmods]

After the collapse of the Winchester house, everyone will have some time to regroup. The dead can be given bodies, everyone can have the remnants of the miasma washed away, and the 2000's group can be brought up to date on what's been happening for the last twenty years. It's been a long day, and taking time to process it all is probably in everyone's best interests.

But they won't get to rest for long. About an hour after the house's collapse, several all-black vehicles will roll up on the site of the former Winchester house. Most people present should recognize the uniforms and logos plastered all over everything: this is a cleanup team, the kind sent in after a successful containment to make sure the locals don't talk about what happened. It must be nice to have a somewhat-positive reception for once, huh?

But along with the group, a certain misty-eyes O5 will make their grand entrance. And as they step out and look over the group, they have something important to say.

"You did it. I...thank you. Thank you for saving them."

There's still details to handle and paperwork and interviews to do, but that is easy compared to what's already been done. With everyone's efforts, a potential XK-class SCP has been neutralized, saving the world itself, all without any permanent Agent casualties.

You all have exceeded Foundation expectations.

Congratulations.

Comments

the wildest of cards

[noneforall]

[A bathrobe is hardly a fashion crisis compared to the actual fashion crisis of waking up in a Foundation uniform in yet another life, which was definitely one too many times. Maybe he had a personal crisis dealing with fashion that resulted in all of this but that is a very different matter!!

At any rate he seems to have settled into his silly outfit even if momentarily it's no longer going to be appropriate attire -- but given who will be arriving later it's really debatable whether Subete would even care. He really has thrown off all kinds of mantles in the 20-year and miasma-filled interim.]

I wouldn't know. [there's a sigh, a bit gusty, a bit affected, while he swirls the glass he has in front of him; it's barely touched] I've hardly had time to do a thing without tripping over yet another agent.

[That soft derisiveness in his voice is probably familiar, despite all the time that's passed by now. The edge is still polished enough, unobscured by miasma or anything else.]

[kaliedoscopes]

They're crawling like roaches, but at least it's not spiders. [ This is too easy he thinks, with a light huff. Even with everything a bit too bright after the miasma shrouded darkness, some things he really doesn't need to see.

But as for things in his field of vision: he looks at the mostly untouched drink and shakes his head. He leans on the bar rather than sit, as he debates several things but ultimately just decides to go with his gut. ]

I still owe you, right? What kind of clothes do you want.

[noneforall]

Mm. Maybe I'll make a spider MJBK again and let it run free.

[It's hard to tell by his flat tone and unchanging expression whether that's rhetorical, or a joke, or anything else; but given that both he and his power are still settling into this body -- with varying levels of success as time goes on -- he's at least not moving to do such a ridiculous thing right away.

In fact, instead of doing that he's folded his arms onto the bar and stopped just short of laying his head down. Even with the whole, spending-most-of-the-day-as-a-golem thing, there's also the was-dead-earlier thing, the fought-as-a-miasma-ghost thing, and then the suddenly-back-to-life-in-yet-another-body thing.

It's a lot of things, accounting for some of the weariness in his movements when he looks back up at Hikage appearing next to him.]

You have pretty good memory for your age, I guess. [the briefest moment of thought, though it doesn't seem to be that deep] Business casual will do.

[kaliedoscopes]

[ A soft exhale that would hide a smile on a better day, but it probably says enough on its own. ]

Careful, you're catching up to me you know. [ There's probably some like diminishing scale of age the more you go down the hyperbolic time chamber/age is fake and or frozen route. But anyway, there's a nod and then a quick glance around the empty bar; he's still not used to using his magic like this in public so.

He snaps his fingers and there's a flurry of (still) black butterflies, and now a new outfit in his hand, blue swapped out for green. The quality in the garments is superior as is the fit, but that probably isn't a surprise. For the low cost of assuming your identity, Hikage can be your perfect tailor. ]

Good enough?

[noneforall]

[He doesn't return the gesture but he does raise an eyebrow, which is more expression on its own than he's bothered with since he got a face back. Golems really aren't meant for such things.]

I don't think I'd mind catching up a little more. The circumstances really are never ideal, though.

[It's murder mansion, murder mansion, murder time-space bubble, murder-barrier... Really, why can't hyperbolic time hell be a little more convenient even for the well-initiated? It's a travesty, is what it is. He tightens his arms for a moment, curling in on himself a little and just watching while Hikage does... whatever he's doing.

This time there is more of a reaction, straightening slightly and blink-blinking at the flurry of butterflies. He's seen them put to all sorts of uses now, but somehow this one is still strange seen in the light of day and not miasma.]

You really... put Ushiromiya-san to shame, hmm? [there's something both curious and wry in the words, slipping out in between his movements as he finally reaches out and takes the outfit, running his fingers over it and finding the solidness of both material and fit] Yeah. It'll do. It's better than anything they'd bother to give us.

[kaliedoscopes]

And we still wouldn't be old enough to drink, technically. [ A passing tch because these are some first world time nonsense problems.

Truth be told he's much more used to using the butterflies like this, their other uses were very much ad libbed but the miasma did help with inspiration in a way. ]

I didn't want to hurt her feelings. [ He smiles minutely, going along with the flow and his trademark sarcasm. Momentarily after his lips curve more, something like a sheen of light added to the mix. ]

Ha, that's not really a compliment with how dysfunctional they are. But it does mean that I've found something you'll accept, so I don't mind.

[noneforall]

Technicalities are just a problem of semantics.

[They are indeed first world time nonsense problems, but first world nonsense problems are also in some way his wheelhouse -- which might account for the easy retort there. All told his view of this world and its inhabitants is probably permanently warped in some very interesting ways, not least of which is his new and exciting acquaintance with murder butterflies and their aesthetic.

This is definitely how magic-murder butterflies work.

He does glance up from his perusal of the outfit when Hikage speaks again; as always it's easy to hear the extra note, even if it takes him a moment to absorb the words themselves. Actually, maybe two moments, a thoughtful blink while he sorts out all the jumble of pre-miasma, mid-miasma and post-miasma.]

You-- [it does take a moment but then he's laughing, quiet and a little startled] Yeah, maybe you did. I wouldn't call myself a fashion icon or anything, but... I know good work when I see it.

[It's still quiet but also deliberately light as he gets up from his barstool and stretches a little, measures out the clothes against himself in an entirely perfunctory way before looking around, ostensibly for someplace to change. Time to leave the bathrobe drinking life behind.]

[kaliedoscopes]

And it's handmade too. [ This is like the most pleased he's been in a while and it's over the stupidest thing, but you take whatever wins you can get especially after everything in the past 20 years and then some. ]

Try over there. [ He points in the direction of the attached restaurant, because restrooms are never far for thirsty patrons. He'll sit at the bar in the meantime, apprising the liquor selection. ] I'll wait, I like to admire my handiwork.

1/2

[noneforall]

I don't know how handmade you can call this, but I'll count it as something unique, regardless.

Just don't let it go to your head too much.

[Today really has been a day; both his mood and his literal soul have been stretched and twisted and bounced about like so much silly putty and they weren't particularly stretchy in the first place after spending enough time marinating in miasma to put the ghosts themselves and all their jacuzzis to shame. And then some.

But it's fine to to ignore all of that for a moment, just because they're not in that house anymore and he can make a volley of jabs at the same time as he can move to a non-spider infested room and a real bathroom just to get a change of clothes he doesn't have to wash himself.

That might be the most disorienting thing today, come to think of it.]

2/2

[noneforall]

[It's not long before he strolls back in, and maybe it's just a trick of the light or a trick of the lines of the suit that he seems to be walking a little straighter; or he just walks like this when he isn't dealing with bathrobe fluff or some other manner of fashion-related faux pas.

He smooths down the lapels a little and raises an eyebrow at Hikage as he comes over to lean on the bar himself, reversing their positions from earlier.]

I'd ask when you got your hands on my measurements, but I have a feeling I don't need to ask.

[kaliedoscopes]

[ There's an argument here to be made about how since he makes the butterflies with his hands then surely that does indeed count. What would it be called otherwise, wingmade? But he'll let the comments pass with a slight tip of his head; he won't be pushing things too much today given his own post miasma hangups. At least he doesn't plan on it, but reality is another matter entirely.

When Subete returns Hikage is halfway through a cup of sake, which likely isn't surprising given that his tastes lean old-school from music to cuisine. ]

You don't. I told you my wandering hands and eyes had a use, didn't I? [ Setting the cup on the bar, he looks Subete up and down with just a shadow of smile. ]

I do good work but the model helps.

[noneforall]

[There is indeed an argument and as with all of their utterly ridiculous arguments, voiced or not, it's likely to come up again at some point because the butterflies aren't going away and neither are their respective ridiculous senses of fashion, along with everything else.

But for now Subete just sighs, half-exasperated and half-amused, and slides back into his seat at the bar. His own drink is just a spot of red wine; he isn't really drinking to get drunk, still wary of letting loose in the middle of whatever is still happening with the Foundation, but...]

I thought I told you not to let it go to your head.

[He swirls the wine a little distractedly and then gives his companion another side-glance. There's a momentary teasing quality to his voice, there and gone again like a blink.]

Hmm. Hard to say if I should be impressed or not, but at least you put some of it to good use. Are you still collecting?

[kaliedoscopes]

I'm not, I'm just stating the truth. [ Not even bothering to filter dark amusement here, but it doesn't linger. ] Besides, I wasn't only complimenting myself.

[ He takes a sip after that, the sake as smooth as his tone. Getting drunk isn't on his agenda either, and as tempting as it is he's stopping at this one drink. Who knows exactly when this is happening in the time space continuum but there'll be enough tripping over himself today without really getting alcohol involved. ]

I don't really know how to stop, but there's still my taste to account for, of course. [ ... ] Unless you mean in present company, in which case yes.

[noneforall]

[He sips briefly, the most bite-sized bit of contemplation, before there's an exhale that's not quite a sigh and not quite a laugh but something in between this time. He holds that glance for a moment.]

I suppose I can be gracious this time and thank the tailor.

[--and then returns to swirling his drink in a smooth motion, turning over the rest of their words in a haze that is only the slightest bit alcohol-tinged. It's hard to be firing on all cylinders after a day like today, and it's only going to get longer from here on out. More's the pity.]

... Are you saying you've become more discerning over the past twenty years, though? That would be something. [a quiet hum] And a bit of a pickle, of course.

[kaliedoscopes]

It was this tailor's pleasure. [ Said with a quirk of his lips and unveiled satisfaction. He takes the moment after to size up how much he has left in his cup as he listens. ]

A pickle doesn't really go with any of this. [ Pairing one with wine and sake is just wrong. Another drink that he takes his time with, and then carefully swirls what little remains. After a second more he finishes what he had left and pushes the now empty cup away. ]

And I still wouldn't like them even if they did, they overpower everything else. I've always only partaken in what's interesting to me, or useful, the past twenty years has nothing to do with it. As for the personal matter: I decided it's more fun not to peek. Shortcuts are only really worth it in trivial games like old maid that are hardly worth playing in the first place. And there's a better show with fireworks that I'm supposed to be watching too.

[noneforall]

[He has his own slight smile that he's hiding against his glass and the hand holding it, it's hard to tell if he's sipping so slowly for that reason or if he's just given up on drinking in the orthodox fashion because momentarily he actually is forced to duck more into his glass.

It's hard to muffle the sudden twitch of lips with wine, but at least he hasn't managed to inhale any of the drink. Give him his composure back, this is too much of a pickle for him!!]

Ah, I-- I guess that's true. [ahem] There are... few things a pickle goes with, even if it's still a necessary part of the menu.

[What are they even talking about anymore. God. Placing his glass down now that he's mastered himself, or just so that he's not mumbling while he's trying to absorb and address the rest. Pause.]

And twenty years is usually enough for an acquired taste, but you are a picky one. I... [it's funny because he's trying for smooth, himself, and mostly succeeding but also stumbling at odd moments] If you want to play the long game, that's a lot of fireworks. But I do still owe you for the book, if nothing else.

[kaliedoscopes]

[ He may have started it (or more like rolled it off the tracks entirely), but Hikage seems to have underestimated this whole pickle business. There's still a smile on his lips despite the bemusement that's in the air, because why wouldn't there be? ]

Right. Tsukemono though...we'd have to find an izakaya for that. [ Obviously he was speaking to the western pickle and not japanese pickled vegetables you find offered as otsumami. Obviously. The rest though...he might be leaning into his smile and the bar now for different reasons. ]

I don't really need to worry about vitality. That's generous of you though—I guess I should return that generosity some time, I do owe you a serenade. And a few other things.

[noneforall]

[Nobody expects the pickle inquisition, apparently?? Subete has certainly been knocked at least a little off-kilter at this point, given all the fashion flourishes, alcoholic appetizers and miasma mansion melees of the day (and it still isn't nighttime, somehow), but he's always been able to react on a dime even if the reaction itself is questionable.

A quick shake of his head and he gives up and drains the rest of his wine. It's not elegant and it's not doing the wine any favors either, but this conversation needs either less or a whole lot more alcohol, and guess which one he's going for.]

Getting ambitious, are we? I can't say I know where to find an izakaya nowadays.

[Any more than he knows what the current business trends are, clothing or otherwise, or even whether the tsukemono would taste anything like what he might have sampled years and years ago on a different continent. The sardonic tinge to the words might come from all of that, or he might just be rolling the pickle wordplay and timing around, eyes bright and considering.]

Well, I just don't like owing debts, that's all. Vitality or not... It's always good to start with a clean slate.

[Whatever is starting. Probably a lifetime, or an extra body time, or who even knows at this point.]

[kaliedoscopes]

I was told that's what the internet was invented for. [ Confidently but also with a betraying air which tells that he probably barely knows his way around Google. Projection though, is another story entirely.

He swings his legs to the side of the bar stool, heeled boots lightly clacking against the wood. ]

This isn't the place for most of them, not to mention that clean and the Foundation go together terribly in any sense of the word. I wonder how many we could bang out in a night.

[noneforall]

Oh, touché. You do have to wonder when the news of the Winchester Mansion's disassembly and reassembly will reach online forums.

[With the faintest sly note that says he can read the bullshit behind the wording, on several different levels, but is choosing to acknowledge the point regardless for the moment; in general, it's an admirable intersection of curse and history, the way they've both been chased down by the timeline.

He watches Hikage's bid for pickle-flavored, digitally-enhanced freedom and stays where he is; in fact, there's the briefest huff, something wry in even that much.]

But of course, we both know that -- the Foundation continues to be much more of a ball and chain than anything else, even with time travel involved. Therefore-- [the sly curve of his mouth is momentary, but there all the same] --the night to their day must be a long one.

[kaliedoscopes]

[ Wisely he'll keep his mouth shut about forums, because Roman ones probably came to mind. Another reason to be grateful for the death of the hivemind.

And to his credit he's not physically fleeing even though mentally that's probably something he had imagined briefly. Only just maybe. He does however set one heeled boot down on the floor, letting his other leg swing. A quick blink, nonplussed, that's so easily missed followed by a subsequent wry quirk of his lips in meeting. ]

Oh, so we are on the same page. Then let's continue this later when the mood and time are right.

[noneforall]

[Hikage, are you from 100 years ago or 2900 years ago, real talk.

There are things Subete can still perceive that the hivemind doesn't have any sway on, but the complete lack of technological common sense and the misuse of hashbrowns certainly isn't one of these; it's also possible that despite everything that's come up in this motley crew cast and in the mess of the hivemind itself he still has trouble wrapping his mind entirely around not only the 2000's but all the people who might have chronologically been left behind in Antiquity somewhere.

What do you mean ancient civilizations weren't visited by the spirit of mechas past??

In the somewhat more staid and haunted present, he watches the motions, listens for the subsequent sounds and steps of their dance, and lets his own words flow from light to scathing and back again without pausing for breath.]

To think that there are those who aren't... But we already knew their reading ended years ago. Honestly. I suppose I have few other places to be today.

[Which. Isn't strictly true but who could have anticipated that, really.]

[kaliedoscopes]

[ Hey, history nerds existed back then too. ]

I prefer it that way. I said it already, didn't I? [ His colors are still all over the place post miasma but Subete is more than familiar with this shade: the less people there are the less sharing.

There's no need to state the obvious, so he hops fully off the stool with just a little flourish. He's said way more than he meant to, including the latest vague commitment to later when he's spent this entire day telling everyone he has no idea what he's doing next (That'll hold true for any conversations he has in the interim too). So he leaves the bar with a glance over his shoulder and a wave. There quite possibly might be a wink too, but maybe that was just a trick of light and shadow. This'll probably be the last time he manages to hold his tongue today and more importantly, tonight.

Who knows how he ultimately would have addressed later if the Foundation hadn't shown their ineptitude, but as tends to happen they're on the same page again when it matters. And that's just one of the reasons why Hikage finds himself on the end of a taxi ride to the hills of San Jose. The whole list of reasons is as numerous and distorted as light reflecting in a kaleidoscope. ]

Out of all the places to start, I didn't rank gyuudon as a top contender. I wonder if it's too much to ask for fireworks, but they probably have sake at least.

[noneforall]

[Hikage got a quieter sendoff, Subete raising his hand in a careless wave back even as one eyebrow ticks up at the wink swirled into the fancy-shmancy exit; there's just a sigh once he's turned back to contemplating his empty glass, but there's amusement in it and a little more energy, in all of the ridiculous back-and-forth that just swept by like a stray watercolor brush in the inkwash of receding miasma and thawing decades.

So maybe he's a little more well-equipped for what comes after, now, and a little more well-braced besides. Strange how that works. It's not going to be nearly enough to deal with the real ridiculousness the O5s drag in, and certainly not enough to shore his still-nonexistent patience with the Foundation itself, but nothing at this point probably would.

Still, it seems like a very long time later that escaping into San Jose finally happens, and when it does it's somewhat of a blur. Subete doesn't have much to say on the way there, tension still wound through most of him like a spring set to snap, but he does let himself settle a little into the familiar rumble of the car engine (how long has it been? is a question he finds himself asking a little too much right now). The driver hasn't spoken or glanced back once since they helped themselves to the back seat, and there's absolutely no reaction when they step out, either -- like he didn't even notice they were back there, somehow.

It takes a moment or two, and he's busily scanning the street for their destination (unnecessarily, because anything food-related blares like a beacon right now in the setting sun), but Subete does answer.]

I got the impression we just missed some minor fireworks, but... [thoughtfully] Gyuudon and sake are a start. I could use more of a real drink after -- today.

[The briefest pause, not like a stumble but more like stepping over a missed step, a gap that goes a lot deeper than a day and a lot wider than a bottle of sake, but really: you do have to start somewhere.]

[kaliedoscopes]

[ The silence nor the car ride are familiar, but they're not complete strangers either. He has a lot on his mind even if it's all gathered in a different bundle, and he mostly spent the time picking at it before pushing it all to the side. The absent behavior from the driver is noted despite Hikage's own distractions, because the only thing he has in his pockets now is one folded up note that's worth...well it has no monetary value and that's what important right now.

The scan he does of the streets when they step out is aimed more at the passersby than on any buildings, but their destination does catch his eye in the process (hmm, maybe inside the restaurant he'll find a decent enough catch). Hikage's more sure of himself and his steps as he advances forward, but he's had a lot of practice to the point where it's become autonomous. ]

Maybe, but it probably wasn't really entertaining anyway. And the night is long, hm? So we'll have plenty of time to make our own fun. [ The measure of Foundation entertainment depends on who you ask really, but Hikage has no interest in watching Gil & Solomon do their thing. Actual food and liquor > a lover's spat.

Stepping into the restaurant elicits more of that weird reconnect for Hikage; it's neither familiar nor foreign given the limited time he had to interact with the modern world proper after winding up in this world. But with a waitress leading them over to where they'll be seated, seiza style (woe to his heels that he needs to leave behind), it almost feels decently familiar. Thoughtfully he examines the menu, pausing at the drink section first. ]

I picked last time, so it's your turn if you want it. We're getting a bottle though.