New Mauville carries with it the same sort of discretionary heaviness that the sub does— he hates it. But. It’s worth checking back every now and then. Treasure hunters occasionally disturb old, settled junk, and very rarely ever knew what they were looking at.

At least he doesn’t even have to walk. He sits on one of Acrius’ middle segments, the Centiskorch’s multitudinous legs clicking and clacking as he pattered through the steel halls.

“Hold up,” Kepler called, pausing to examine a long-dead control panel and see if anything within was worth salvaging. Acrius’ front half curved around a corner and almost ran right into lam logan , smacking his mandibles together irritatedly.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming— oh, my god, a human being.” A very sweaty, mildly attractive human being.

“You’re not the police, are you?”

lam logan - elec/steel

☉

[attr="class","samknox2"]

[attr="class","samknoxw"]One hand around Hagakure’s hilt, Kepler steps forward and is quickly surrounded by a small swarm of Drifloon. The little purple orbs make their cooing noises at him, which sound like a helium balloon getting twisted into the shape of a small animal.

The rumors say Drifloon like to kidnap small children and Kepler is certainly small enough to be perceived as a child… but he’s a child holding onto swords, he reminds himself, and so he doesn’t jump at the first touch. He’s used Phobos’ lines to pull himself up enough he’s certain it’s not going to curse him as the Drifloon drag their little heart-shaped feelers over him. Like pulling on a Ninetails’ tail: just another myth.

“They’re kinda cute,” he says, half a giggle, as his vision is completely blocked out by burbling purple balloons. And he doesn’t even notice that anything is changing until there’s a horrible shrieking sound and all the Drifloon scatter; and he’s staring off into the fog-shrouded hellscape that haunts his nightmares:

The Borderlands.

“Oh, fuck…”

[attr="class","samknoxt"]jayden cross - mission: we all float

[attr="class","samknoxc"]☉