[it's not the first time akira's accidentally crossed worlds.
there was the incident with the sky realm, and then the other time when he'd perhaps not-so-accidentally stolen someone's invitation to a tournament. which makes this time round three, so after cruising through the other incidences with relative ease, akira lands in this new one with his characteristic aplomb.
it's dark outside. he knows he's not in tokyo anymore, that's for certain. the lights of the tall, near-ornamental houses shine around him as he looks around, trying to triangulate his position. it's a fruitless endeavor when he has no idea where he is.
the most curious part, however, is the fact that akira isn't quite akira right now—he's joker, if his phantom thief outfit is any indication, and a blink later, his surroundings morph in a kaleidoscope of color until finally, they settle once more, changed. this hasn't happened before, but he's familiar enough with this feeling in the pit of his stomach to know that he's in a palace of some sort.
there's someone nearby. eerily, he's reminded of the time he'd gone to change futaba's heart. the man doesn't quite look like a shadow, and there doesn't seem to be much security yet, but...]
Hey. It isn't exactly safe here.
i barely remember p5 palace rules BUT I WILL PRETEND
it's a neighborhood in aefenglom's residential district, to be certain, but none of the street names seem to make sense when he looks at them. the buildings around him are static, but the letters on storefronts and shop signs refuse to congeal into words. but just as he's starting to feel slightly sick and disoriented, joker approaches, giving francel something real and solid to focus on.]
...It's not? But... this is the Haven. And my home is... somewhere near here.
I AM HOME AGAIN and starting to reboot my brain... hopefully tags will be more regular again
[akira takes a moment to look over the newcomer. he's tall -- far taller than akira, and his pointed ears set him apart from the average human. most striking is the set of...are those horns? akira's reminded of the dragons from some of futaba's fantasy rpgs. all of this cements this town as Definitely Not His World.
as if to taunt them, the letters on the nearest signpost distort again.]
What should I call you?
[this, instead of what's your name, because akira still isn't sure who's listening. this feeling around him... it definitely gives off the same vibe as a palace. which is odd, considering akira hasn't tried any keywords... and ordinarily, a palace would be a single building, as opposed to a whole town. he pulls out his phone, and the usual app has taken over the screen, confirming his suspicions.
he doesn't have futaba's knack for detecting safe spots in the palace where the distortions are weakest, but he knows well enough to realize that standing here in the open is disadvantageous. the urgency of this thought increases as he spots a flash of blue -- and with instincts honed from countless palace infiltrations, akira catches francel by the wrist and pulls him into the cover of an alleyway as another man with black hair and distinguished blue armor strides past with graceful steps.
[there's something telling about the way francel looks forlornly after the shadow wearing aymeric's face — his eyes widen, and he looks distraught as the shadow-aymeric walks coldly past their hiding place. he doesn't question why akira pulled him aside. it doesn't matter much either way.
akira's glove feels cold against his skin. the tall elezen's eyes fall to the ground, long-lashed and empty and blue.]
Y... Yes. That's Aymeric. Or... Ser Aymeric, rather.
[he remembers, belatedly, that he ought to place distance between them. because the last time he opened his heart to the lord commander — what did he get as reward?]
I live with him. Or I did, some weeks ago. My name is Francel.
[akira doesn't miss the look that francel slants in the figure's direction, but tactfully, he makes no comment on it.
it feels strange, having so little information to go on. back in tokyo, nearly every target the phantoms had hit was a major figure in some way. akira knows nothing about this aymeric, and from the eeriness of the town's atmosphere, he probably can't casually duck into a cafe to ask around.
there's...a story behind how they used to live together, clearly.]
Nice meeting you, Francel. I go by Joker. [he offers a half-smile, well-aware that he sounds a little ridiculous right now.] Where's your—
[belatedly, he catches himself. he looks suspicious enough in his full phantom thief getup; the average person would probably not want him anywhere near their house. still, the smartest thing to do right now is get francel out of potential harm's way. from there, akira could tail that aymeric projection. or something. god, if only makoto were here to help with a more definitive plan.]
Where's a good place for me to see you off to? It's pretty late to be out. [alarmingly, the a light nearby flickers, then dies. when it flickers back to life after another few seconds, the color is slightly off—a colder hue compared to its original yellow. every few seconds, even the ground and the walls of the buildings seem to shift, as if they're television images with static interference.]
[strangely, this question seems to send francel into a panic, though why he should be so perturbed is hard to say. he brings a clawed hand to his mouth as though he might be sick.]
I don't... I don't know. I don't want to go back home. I — I can't —
[francel's eyes look almost sky blue in the odd light, though their natural color hews closer to navy, deep and dark as the night sky; they gleam, suddenly, wet with tears. the long-eared man blinks, taking a deep breath in what seems to be an effort to calm himself. as discreetly as he can manage, the elezen wipes his eyes on the back of his hand.]
...I'm sorry. [he breathes, after a moment, the edges of panic lost from his voice.] I don't know where to go. Not anymore.
[he shakes his head.]
...Many of the homes here are empty. Might I... that is, if you would not be troubled, might I ask you to help me find a new home? The hour grows late, and I fear some might feel stirred by the light of the moon. It wouldn't do to run into a burglar of some sort...
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storibook
im too lazy for big deets but imagine we storming aef!francel palace, similar premise to futaba's
there was the incident with the sky realm, and then the other time when he'd perhaps not-so-accidentally stolen someone's invitation to a tournament. which makes this time round three, so after cruising through the other incidences with relative ease, akira lands in this new one with his characteristic aplomb.
it's dark outside. he knows he's not in tokyo anymore, that's for certain. the lights of the tall, near-ornamental houses shine around him as he looks around, trying to triangulate his position. it's a fruitless endeavor when he has no idea where he is.
the most curious part, however, is the fact that akira isn't quite akira right now—he's joker, if his phantom thief outfit is any indication, and a blink later, his surroundings morph in a kaleidoscope of color until finally, they settle once more, changed. this hasn't happened before, but he's familiar enough with this feeling in the pit of his stomach to know that he's in a palace of some sort.
there's someone nearby. eerily, he's reminded of the time he'd gone to change futaba's heart. the man doesn't quite look like a shadow, and there doesn't seem to be much security yet, but...]
Hey. It isn't exactly safe here.
i barely remember p5 palace rules BUT I WILL PRETEND
it's a neighborhood in aefenglom's residential district, to be certain, but none of the street names seem to make sense when he looks at them. the buildings around him are static, but the letters on storefronts and shop signs refuse to congeal into words. but just as he's starting to feel slightly sick and disoriented, joker approaches, giving francel something real and solid to focus on.]
...It's not? But... this is the Haven. And my home is... somewhere near here.
I AM HOME AGAIN and starting to reboot my brain... hopefully tags will be more regular again
[akira takes a moment to look over the newcomer. he's tall -- far taller than akira, and his pointed ears set him apart from the average human. most striking is the set of...are those horns? akira's reminded of the dragons from some of futaba's fantasy rpgs. all of this cements this town as Definitely Not His World.
as if to taunt them, the letters on the nearest signpost distort again.]
What should I call you?
[this, instead of what's your name, because akira still isn't sure who's listening. this feeling around him... it definitely gives off the same vibe as a palace. which is odd, considering akira hasn't tried any keywords... and ordinarily, a palace would be a single building, as opposed to a whole town. he pulls out his phone, and the usual app has taken over the screen, confirming his suspicions.
he doesn't have futaba's knack for detecting safe spots in the palace where the distortions are weakest, but he knows well enough to realize that standing here in the open is disadvantageous. the urgency of this thought increases as he spots a flash of blue -- and with instincts honed from countless palace infiltrations, akira catches francel by the wrist and pulls him into the cover of an alleyway as another man with black hair and distinguished blue armor strides past with graceful steps.
a shadow? or...a projection?]
Do you know him?
NYOOMS TO YOU two weeks later
akira's glove feels cold against his skin. the tall elezen's eyes fall to the ground, long-lashed and empty and blue.]
Y... Yes. That's Aymeric. Or... Ser Aymeric, rather.
[he remembers, belatedly, that he ought to place distance between them. because the last time he opened his heart to the lord commander — what did he get as reward?]
I live with him. Or I did, some weeks ago. My name is Francel.
no subject
it feels strange, having so little information to go on. back in tokyo, nearly every target the phantoms had hit was a major figure in some way. akira knows nothing about this aymeric, and from the eeriness of the town's atmosphere, he probably can't casually duck into a cafe to ask around.
there's...a story behind how they used to live together, clearly.]
Nice meeting you, Francel. I go by Joker. [he offers a half-smile, well-aware that he sounds a little ridiculous right now.] Where's your—
[belatedly, he catches himself. he looks suspicious enough in his full phantom thief getup; the average person would probably not want him anywhere near their house. still, the smartest thing to do right now is get francel out of potential harm's way. from there, akira could tail that aymeric projection. or something. god, if only makoto were here to help with a more definitive plan.]
Where's a good place for me to see you off to? It's pretty late to be out. [alarmingly, the a light nearby flickers, then dies. when it flickers back to life after another few seconds, the color is slightly off—a colder hue compared to its original yellow. every few seconds, even the ground and the walls of the buildings seem to shift, as if they're television images with static interference.]
no subject
I don't... I don't know. I don't want to go back home. I — I can't —
[francel's eyes look almost sky blue in the odd light, though their natural color hews closer to navy, deep and dark as the night sky; they gleam, suddenly, wet with tears. the long-eared man blinks, taking a deep breath in what seems to be an effort to calm himself. as discreetly as he can manage, the elezen wipes his eyes on the back of his hand.]
...I'm sorry. [he breathes, after a moment, the edges of panic lost from his voice.] I don't know where to go. Not anymore.
[he shakes his head.]
...Many of the homes here are empty. Might I... that is, if you would not be troubled, might I ask you to help me find a new home? The hour grows late, and I fear some might feel stirred by the light of the moon. It wouldn't do to run into a burglar of some sort...