|Joined: June 21, 2017||Active Kith: Khronos|
|Birthday: Private||Kith Alliances: 4|
|I am: ya boy drax||Forum Posts: 2315|
|Call me: he/they||Website: bad writing|
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beetle had turned to talk someone else, and aster would have tapped their foot impatiently (Just cut to the damn chase already, you buggy bastard.) if they were still on the ground— aster? that name was wrong right, or maybe it was right wrong— bong. bong. bong. shit. they were supposed to remember something. the sound of the clock’s chime had jogged their memory, but only enough to remember that they had forgotten something. bong. bong. bong. what time even was it here? time was weird in the smear, but this masquerade had rules, so they would think there would be one regarding the time. bong. bong. bong. Cinderella, an old folktale. a ball, in which when the clock struck midnight, the heroine’s dress would fade away, and the masquerade would be dispelled. how many chimes had they heard? bong. bong. bong. ten, eleven, twelve. then their skin prickled as the clock shattered into a thousand spiraling pieces. midnight. it was time to go. panic making them oblivious to all else, they leapt toward the door on the opposite end of the room, hoping to beat a hasty retreat before their dress fell to rags. hopefully they wouldn’t have to leave a slipper behind— were they wearing shoes anyway? no matter.
"Surely you remember me, ehehehe, I invited you here. We had a simply lovely chat, ehehee!" that guy sure sounded like the real deal. same insufferable attitude and same singsong voice that made you want to mess up his masked face. fortunately, the hunky adventure guy seemed to have the situation on lockdown. they could hardly talk to the guy without busting a vein, so it was probably best if he handled this. they just stood there and tried to look menacing. maybe this was their chance to finally get some answers.
If there was a god, surely they had got to be kidding. They had just left the buggy bitch in the other room, and he couldn’t have gotten here that fast unless— the other guy had said he wasn’t the real deal, that there was another beetle pulling the strings here (rational mind trying to slow them down, what if he had pulled some weird spacetime bullshit and teleported here, what if this was another fucking joke, no it couldn’t be they would have picked up on a teleport unless the rules had changed again) if this was the capital b beetle, then they had some words for them. (they shouldn’t fight, the pre-party warning singing in their mind that they shouldn’t cause trouble). alright. fine. they would try to play by the rules. voice trembling with barely-contained rage “who are you.”
“Ah.... Time may be up. Or it might not be, depending on what time you're on. I can never keep it straight. Is is 12 or 13 for midnight here?" Well, at least their doom wasn’t certain. They could have an extra hour— but they didn’t feel like they had spent enough time down here to warrant it being midnight already. The Star simply chalked it up to more temporal weirdness. The Beetle?’s manipulation of the surroundings was unsettling (how were they supposed to threaten him if he could bend the environment to his whims?), but the way he had said it... he seemed unsure about his ability, like it was still something he was figuring out how to do, so the Star figured they could deal with it if they had to. Two of the party members (god, what were their names again) were heading down the stairs— toward the groaning that had abruptly cut off. If whatever was groaning was still alive, it could be a potential enemy, so they joined the descending line and followed them into the unknown.
he/they and the big gay
IC: weirdo time wizard