♪ - Memory - Roar
Who: Devola, her Shadow, and whomever.
What: A Shadow stops skulking around and drops in for some fauxlosophical discussion before the inevitable occurs.
Where: Hotel Lobby/Prospero Streets.
When: November 29th, the Dark Hour
Rating: PG-13. I'd be surprised if it went higher.
Warning: Violence, NieR Spoilers -- like, seriously.
BGM
Though the Dark Hour was in it's beginning moments, and Devola was well-aware that the Hotel's lobby was ill-defended from Shadow incursion, she still felt safe enough to use the room as it was intended and could be found sitting in one of the chairs and jotting away in a small notebook. The recent outbreak of shadowy duplicates -- some going as far as to declare themselves 'Shadows' was interesting, and the cause or reasoning behind it was one worth pursuing. To that extent she'd turned her phone on, video feed active.
"I'm probably a bit slow on this one, but has anyone read up on Jungian Psy-"
The words were harsh, atonal, alien. To hear them one could scarcely believe they came from a human mouth. They were, however, words Devola understood -- words she knew and words that only one other she could think of would be fluent in. One with a voice that matched her own, one with a voice that matched the speaker's. She looked up with a flash of something akin to pure joy in her eyes.
"Sis! -... You're not her. Guess I should've been expecting you, given the recent happenings."
It was a joy that was extinguished when she locked eyes with the source of the voice. Though Devola and Popola were identical twins, that was all the more reason they themselves would be the experts at determining whether they were confronted with an impostor or not. Of course, the glowing yellow eyes of the 'Devola' before her were something of a dead giveaway. The doppelganger lounged languidly in another chair, smiling a cheshire cat's grin all the while.
Devola's eyebrows furrowed, gazing at her duplicate. It was clad in the garments she'd arrived in, loose clothes of a maroon and dull greenish-gray hue. She herself wore more 'modern' garments: jeans, a simple cotton shirt, and a light overcoat to keep the chill away.
A hand slowly moved to shut the phone down, but the damage was already done; she'd never intended on using that language in Prospero if she could help it. The two began to converse, the hotel lobby soon filling with the strange speech the Shadow had used.
What: A Shadow stops skulking around and drops in for some fauxlosophical discussion before the inevitable occurs.
Where: Hotel Lobby/Prospero Streets.
When: November 29th, the Dark Hour
Rating: PG-13. I'd be surprised if it went higher.
Warning: Violence, NieR Spoilers -- like, seriously.
BGM
Though the Dark Hour was in it's beginning moments, and Devola was well-aware that the Hotel's lobby was ill-defended from Shadow incursion, she still felt safe enough to use the room as it was intended and could be found sitting in one of the chairs and jotting away in a small notebook. The recent outbreak of shadowy duplicates -- some going as far as to declare themselves 'Shadows' was interesting, and the cause or reasoning behind it was one worth pursuing. To that extent she'd turned her phone on, video feed active.
"I'm probably a bit slow on this one, but has anyone read up on Jungian Psy-"
The words were harsh, atonal, alien. To hear them one could scarcely believe they came from a human mouth. They were, however, words Devola understood -- words she knew and words that only one other she could think of would be fluent in. One with a voice that matched her own, one with a voice that matched the speaker's. She looked up with a flash of something akin to pure joy in her eyes.
"Sis! -... You're not her. Guess I should've been expecting you, given the recent happenings."
It was a joy that was extinguished when she locked eyes with the source of the voice. Though Devola and Popola were identical twins, that was all the more reason they themselves would be the experts at determining whether they were confronted with an impostor or not. Of course, the glowing yellow eyes of the 'Devola' before her were something of a dead giveaway. The doppelganger lounged languidly in another chair, smiling a cheshire cat's grin all the while.
Devola's eyebrows furrowed, gazing at her duplicate. It was clad in the garments she'd arrived in, loose clothes of a maroon and dull greenish-gray hue. She herself wore more 'modern' garments: jeans, a simple cotton shirt, and a light overcoat to keep the chill away.
A hand slowly moved to shut the phone down, but the damage was already done; she'd never intended on using that language in Prospero if she could help it. The two began to converse, the hotel lobby soon filling with the strange speech the Shadow had used.