personavelvetroomdr | [open/intro]

Ann knows this place.

This shade of blue, and the song...though its notes flow far more harmoniously than they had the last (and only) time she'd heard them, the melody itself is enough to make Ann's heartbeat kick up a notch. That song only plays in the Velvet Room--and the Velvet Room is not a place she wants to be. Lavenza had said it. Her gut had said it--and Elizabeth had confirmed it. The Velvet Room was in the control of Yaldabaoth, wearing the skin of Igor.

Ann had never met Igor, personally, but both Akira in the previous timeline and the Attendants she'd encountered had painted a vivid picture of him. Taking in her surroundings carefully (this Room matched neither the descriptions of a prison Akira had once given her, or the crumbling ruins Lavenza had pulled her into at the End of a World), Ann eyes the man she can only assume is Yaldabaoth. And, even if it is truly Igor...

She's never met the man, and she doesn't trust anything he has to say to her. She might not be garbed in her will of rebellion, currently, but Célestine is always with her, and steeling her spine with a little of her flame, Carmine stands tall and proud.

Ann takes in the doors. Makes a split second decision that she shouldn't just be rushing into making a decision; Lavenza, and Elizabeth, she trusts--and she's heard Elizabeth describe their siblings enough that she feels as though she can trust them too. She'll poke around in this unfamiliar Velvet Room for now, and see if she can't encounter one of them...or at least someone who can tell her what's going on.

[OOC: check out Ann's AU info and perms here!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Ughhhh. I don't want to hear. About the fucking pancakes. Okay? You know what sucks? I don't even like. Pancakes. I wasn't thinking about Metaverse shit, I was thinking about keeping up appearances and that fucking pop-up cafe that was trending and how I needed to write something for that fucking food blog but nooooo, Ren fucking Amamiya has a talking cat in his bookbag ready to fucking narc on me. This? This is why I'm a dog person."

"First impressions last," is all Ann says, light and airy, before laughing. "Sorry, sorry, but it's never not going to be funny that pancakes were your smoking gun." And then, because she's on a roll and her brain-to-mouth filter isn't: "Really? You seem more like a bird person to me!"

"I think birds are fantastic, actually. Corvids are incredibly intelligent, social animals that are even capable of using and making simple tools to solve problems. I like dogs. I wanted one when I was younger, but... there was never really an opportunity for it."

A glint in his eye, as he glanced back at her. "Besides, could you imagine me as a hellhound? No thank you. I think I'd go insane with all the shedding."

"But you could get a dog now, couldn't you?" Ann asks. "I actually always really wanted a cat, but my parents didn't want one in the house when I was too young. Now that I'm older, I'm alone in the house, so they extra don't want me to have one." If she ever encounters Morgana, that rule is so getting broken.

"I could, theoretically, but there aren't really any mundane animals in Hell, so it'd be a pain in the ass to get one... and also Hellhounds are people, not dogs. So for obvious reasons, that's out of the question."

"Like Morgana!" Ann says. "Since he's a people, not a cat." And probably not a demon? Much to think about.

"Sounds like something else to add on to the list of things you need to make changes about," Ann says. "When I went to visit Shiho in rehab, there were therapy animals all over the place. I bet that could really be a big help for some people down there, if you could figure something out."

"I'd worry about the local wildlife eating them, actually," he muttered. "But it definitely sounds... nice."

A pause. "Wait, Shiho Suzui. I just remembered, I saw her here. We never interacted, but I knew the name and face from case files, I , ah. Sorry, I just remembered and thought you might like to know. Probably... not yours, though."

Ann stills at the news. A Shiho was here? She doesn't know if she wants to see her if she's still around...that seems like it would be a lot more painful than interacting with a dozen alternate Goro Akechis. She wishes she could ask someone, though, if she'd seemed happy.

"Probably not!" Ann manages to say, as cheerfully as she can. "That's just how it seems to be here, doesn't it? For the most part at least. We can talk to people we know, but it's not the people we know." Case in point, the two of them. "Does it ever get...you know, exhausting?"

"A bit. I'm keeping myself sane knowing that this time it's not- that we don't forget everything if we leave, and won't lose any time. Or so Igor says. And I've never once known him to lie. It would be nice if I could see my team or my family, at least."

Yeah, it--it would. Ann's settled into her new timeline, she's accepted it and grieved what she's lost...but if she could somehow see the friends of her prior timeline again; if she could somehow just make even one of them remember the time they spent together and the shit they went through...

Ah. Well. No point in thinking about it, is there?

"I understand that," Ann says, soft. "At the very least, there is some comfort in knowing that this all won't just--get erased. I'd hate for it all to end like that for us. Again."

Again.

He found himself staring, at her. There was that word. Again.

"Feels like they stay with you, doesn't it. You remember, but you know even if you met them again... it wouldn't be the same. Because they wouldn't."

"It's like being haunted by ghosts," Ann says, "except you're the one that's the ghost, not ready to move on. Clinging to the past like denial."

Her fingers twine together as she stares down at the ground, clinging to the only thing she's had since this all started: herself.

"I could meet and love a hundred Shihos, or Akiras, or Ryujis, and it would still never be them. The only place they all still exist...is in my memory. And you have to walk a fine line between cherishing that or wallowing in it."

It was exactly like that. There wasn't a day that went by he didn't feel eyes on his back. His Magician. His Faith. Others, that Igor had said he hadn't forged 'blood oaths' with- but he remembered them. All the time.

Ann. Futaba. Others, too, not quite as close, not as readily trusted. The horned woman who'd invited him to her wedding. The ancient sorcerer who'd taught him dreamotion. The witch who'd pulled him out of his nightmares time and again. The pale boy who'd so excitedly taught him to sign.

Lovers. Justice. Chariot. Death. Moon. Sun. All gone, passing daydreams that fled with the first light of morning.

And yet... because he'd cheated, he remembered.

It was an awkward gesture, really, with all the practiced grace of an ox with anxiety in a china shop- but he put a hand on her shoulder.

Ann sees the touch coming--someone of his size can't really do subtle movements when they're so close and facing each other, is the thing--so she doesn't startle when it lands on her shoulder. Instead, she settles into it, placing her own hand atop his own and letting the gesture, the warmth and solidity of it, speak for itself.

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