old man moomba

Muda da

Dapper appeared with a flicker in the same chamber that Truthless and Flit had just left. He nodded to himself, allowing himself a slight smirk. So the device had worked as intended. People were looking at him oddly, likely because of the entrance he'd made. He simply nodded, moving off to the side and observing, as was his assignment. He was to watch Flit, but not to interfere unless ordered to.

Dapper stepped onto the train platform, checking his watch as if he was late for something. His train would be here in a few minutes. In the meantime, he busied himself with checking the lock on his case. When his train finally arrived, he stepped on. Once onboard, he made his way to the end of the car. As soon as the train pulled out of the station, he pulled a small disk out of his pocket, tossing on the floor. With a flicker, Dapper disappeared from the train.

Dapper stopped for a moment at a crosswalk, setting his briefcase down in front of him and taking a pair of sunglasses out of his coat, putting them on. Then, he picked up his briefcase and crossing the street, heading for the metro station.

So they are.

That too.

I see Graendal here.

Dapper dropped the bottle with a disgusted look. In the same moment, he changed, suddenly looking less like a vagabond and more like... someone who wasn't a vagabond. He was also now holding a metal staff, which had a few carvings down its length. With a disinterested flick, he smacked the Doll-Man into the street, not breaking his stride.

And?

The Pupil of the Globe. The Big Search. The Lizard Came Back. The Dark Going Up. The Heat of Sky. Duke of Destruction. Diadem of Knives. Road of Swords. Cold Season Center. The intersection of Crepusculence. The Dagger of Sleep. The Biggening Hurricane. The Poles of the Middle of the Night. A Remembrance of Brightness. By Bobbert Gordon.

Dapper gave a somewhat drunken grin, stumbling down the road, an unmarked bottle in one hand and a briefcase in the other.

Dapper nodded to himself, deciding that he had gone mad at some point recently.

"Eel."

The man had many names, some of which he wished he didn’t. Some of them were things he’d called himself, others were names given to him by his followers, or by his enemies. The man remembered them all, at least the ones that he’d heard or been told of. Names were important, in the man’s mind at least, for they were the keystone around which the very fiber of one’s being was built. One’s names were shaped by them and they were shaped by their names. The man’s mouth quirked in a smile, his current title was one of his choosing. It was a term from a time and place now forgotten to most beings, but the man himself remembered some of it, if only to come up with thematic titles for himself. The man stood up. Enough of relaxing, and reminiscing on long-forgotten languages. More than ever, events were requiring his direct action, something which hadn’t occurred in a long, long time. The man set his face, preparing for what was to come, and summoned his power, the spirit which granted him such power, the thing which all Stands were born from. It appeared behind him, looking like a hole in the world with the shape of a crude, humanlike figure. The hole was filled with a slightly red-tinged darkness, with bluish-white sparks trailing through it. Most mortals would go mad after looking at the figure for more than a minute. The man had seen it happen, and only Algai an Mikra could heal the madness. That was its name, in the same tongue as his own. He commanded the figure to move, and it did, slapping its arms together and slashing them down. As it moved, reddish light trailed after it, dissipating after a moment. The slashing motion opened a rift in the world, looking similar to his Stand, though they were about as different as two things could be. With a smile, the man stepped through the widening rift, mentally commanding Algai an Mirka to close it after him. He now stood on nothing, or maybe floated. It was hard to tell, and the man didn’t care anyway. He checked his watch, humming to himself. He wished he’d brought his pipe, just to have something to do, but what was passed was passed, most of the time, at least.

The Voidbringers all seemed to be engaged at the moment, so Jamie moved closer to the house, taking up a defensive position near the door. She stood in stance lazily, holding her Shardblade in one hand. Holding such a massive sword in one hand would normally been exceedingly difficult, but the supernatural lightness of the Blade, combined with pewter made it easier than holding a normal longsword. Which she'd done more than a few times, at her trainer's insistence.

Jamie heard shouts from outside. She’d been sitting on her bed, lost in memory. She was thinking back to the times she’d fought Koloss, wondered if they stood any chance against a Voidbringer. Both of them were… somewhat human, and they both seemed to kill with no regard for things like morality. That was question for another time, however. She stood, getting up to look out the window at the fight below. She paused for a moment, considering how exactly to get down to the fight below. She could go downstairs and out the door, like a normal person. But that was both boring, and it would take too long. Instead, she grinned, opened the window, drowned some pewter and jumped out, flaring the metal as she landed in a crouch. Shock echoed up her legs, but she was mostly unharmed. She held her hand out in front of, calling her Shardblade to her. Her heartbeat echoed loudly in her head as she stood up, scanning for targets.

"A spotter would be good." Doc nodded, "But I doubt they'll come after you anytime soon. It's a waste of manpower, when they could be hunting down actual Invested."

"Huh. Yes, there is. It makes people forget what they saw, I guess that's what happened to you, but on a lesser scale." Doc smiled, "It's interesting, in a sort of morbid way."