Stranger Lies [Active]

[dark-dealer.livejournal.com]

Character(s): The Lone Power, Zetsu, Xaldin, V and Rozalin
Content: Two amnesiac villains meet a rather...exotic crowd and have no idea what the hell's going on.
Setting: Vanaheim Gate
Time: mid-to-late morning
Warnings: two amnesiacs, an organization member, and god knows what else? Who knows. Possible: swearing, violence(?), and mind games


You can call it a bad morning when you wake up outside and spend the first few hours of it with a hangover with no known source and no idea where you are nor who you are and wander around in circles. The Lone Power glared at the gates. He was back at the same gates for the second or third time in the past couple hours. At least now the hangover was going away…or maybe that was just his frustration wiping it out. The Lone Power sat down near the gate and glared at the electronic device in his hands before banging on the keys in frustration, a determined scowl at it as he set about trying to figure out what to do with it. The only thing on his mind was that he was going to get it to work on his own without help. There was no way in hell he was asking for help.

The Lone Power focused intently on the journal in front of him, pushing away the feelings of intense discomfort at the city as a whole... This place had him feeling trapped, though he couldn't exactly tell completely why.

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[weeatbodies.livejournal.com]

Zetsu wondered what he was.

The who, at the moment, seemed almost irrelevant. There could be no easy answer to that, not when he felt within himself two obviously different people. One was distressed, one merely upset, and both were confused--they were twined together peaceably enough for now, with no reason to argue and every reason to peaceably coexist to search for answers together.

The where? Far worse than merely irrelevant--entirely meaningless. He couldn't remember anywhere else, so "where" was simply "here" until further notice, until the significance of any name could be understood.

But the what, now..... The what was something indeed. He could feel that in his bones, that he was not what he might be, that he was not "normal", "right", whatever those words happened to entail. But what did that mean? Did not being normal mean he was better, worse, or just different? Having such strangely functioning eyes seemed as if it might be odd, but useful, and he didn't know anyone to ask them how they saw things. His leaves were a little awkward, but functional, and the morning sunlight felt very good on them. He was lost (could he really be lost, or anything but, when every place was "here"?) and confused, but not entirely unhappy--he knew that he didn't know enough to be afraid. Besides, he had nothing to compare his current lot to, to wish for better.

No, the only thing to make him upset now was the plants around him, because he had himself and his own leaves to compare them to. His were broad, beautiful green things, alive and growing, capable of enjoying the sunlight, of pulling their livelihood from it, of being touched and tended and loved. The plants here were beautiful but false things, glittering harshly in the sun and sporting hard, sharp edges that could hurt, especially if they were broken. They had no doubt been made by a loving hand, but they had never been alive themselves, there was nothing to love about them.... They were soulless, and that upset him too profoundly to put words or reason to, to even know how to deal with the feeling.

Distress. Zetsu could smell it before he noticed the man, tasting the pheromones and intuiting their significance. Someone was upset, had their heart pumping and adrenaline flowing, even if there was no room for the traditional fight-or-flight response. It made him frown a little; the scent was strangely appealing, but the sentiment most certainly was not. He made his way towards the man, noting the odd clothing (then again, who was he to say it was odd, aside from comparing it to his own clothes? Just because he couldn't remember seeing a business suit before didn't mean he never had....) and the contraption he held. "What are you doing?" The curiosity and mild concern were easily read in his expression, almost child-like in its openness.