[ Aglaea will absolutely find this "funny" later, because let's be real, it lines up perfectly with her weird, twisted sense of humor. But wrapped up the center of the chaos, it's hard to find any of this anything but frustrating.
She hums, a small, unhappy tune on her breath as she concurs. ] It does seem like a fair assessment. Please do be careful as you tread.
[ While Sunday is quite brave in stepping over the wrestling men, Aglaea seems significantly more trepidations as she stands on the opposite side of what feels like a Grand Canyon to her. She's staring straight head, but her "eyes" are more fixed on the two groomsmen before her as she frowns. She looks... uncomfortable, although the feeling doesn't paint itself well on her expression. ] Forgive me, I'm concerned about becoming wrapped up in their entanglement.
They're.... rather unpredictable. [ Which she continues to feel very uncertain about unpredictability.
With Sunday already bearing a table to ensure his safety, she can't exactly turn to him for help. Instead, she stands there, trying to gauge the best opening for herself, overthinking the situation before her somewhat. Unfortunately, if Sunday does look back at her, he will get a reasonable view of what can only be described as absolute carnage. Witness murder y/n? If yes, Aglaea continues to stand there. If no, Aglaea will trip trying to get over the combatants at just the right moment. ]
They are, and I cannot say that I'm fond of not knowing what's going to happen.
[ In any situation, really, since he'll be honest with himself about that. The dislike of not knowing what to do here is exponentially increased; hard for it to not be (by his own logic) when it was his idea to visit here and now they have ended up in Whatever This Is.
With the table held up around him still there's really nothing to do but figure out what to do beyond standing there, though right as Sunday takes a step the men wrestling on the floor come his direction. An action he only barely manages to dodge though by doing so... he essentially ends up not all that far from where he'd started. Time to frown.
Actually, time to look at Aglaea to see how she's faring when her own path might be better so he turns. Right in time for a knife to be produced at the alter and even Sunday with his unbreakable composure can't help a gasp. ]
Miss Aglaea, I— don't turn around, if you can avoid it.
[ A suggestion which means most will turn, though now he's coming back with the table. There must be a way to share it as he looks at the ground again. Then - wait a minute. ]
I'll take the risk of items being thrown, but we should be able to use the table to keep anyone from coming near us.
[ Said as he sets it down on the ground, intending to move it along as they walk. It's not the strongest way to block the men. At least they can run into it instead of into them, with any luck. ]
[ Sunday's failed attempt to navigate the River of Man has her even more ill-at-ease as she "looks" at the scene before her. And, uh, well, although Sunday advises her not to look, her head does lift to "look" at him. ]
Sunday, my threads do not permit me so easily not to "see" that which is around me...
[ Which is to say, sadly, she may as well have turned around. Aglaea's composure is extremely unshaken by the murder that takes place behind her. Her expression is sadly, very flat, perhaps looking every so slightly tilted toward annoyance than actual mortification. She's just grateful that whatever splash damage is taking place behind her is far enough away that her clothing will not be ruined.
Aglaea maintains her focus on Sunday regardless, unmoved, as he puzzles through the situation they find themselves in. Teh table meets the floor once more, and her brows lift as he proposes his idea:]
Oh! How clever, [ She smiles slightly. ] Let me help you push.
[ There's no reason for a table this size to need two people pushing it, but considering it is now the barrier at their front, it seems fair to have them both working together.
And honestly, it's an incredible even on execution idea, because when the table meets the side of one of the men, his head turns fiercely to start gnawing on it with a vengeance. Oh god. ]
How disturbing... [ But, it works like a charm to push them out of the way. It's the homestretch Sunday!! ]
[ It does help to push the table, if only for the distraction from The Murder happening around them though it's also sort of indistinguishable from the rest of the chaos at this point. An unfortunate background note to everything more immediate when none of it seems to be avoidable for too long as one thing happens after another.
Still: teamwork! The table does seem to help and Sunday would be lying - to himself, at any rate - if he wasn't pleased by that. Certainly something else to focus on, right up until the table gets noticed and what happens next isn't something he could've predicted.
Which is assuming he could've predicted any of this, though Sunday's nose crinkles right up until they push the table past the man and he's forced to stop chewing on it. ]
I cannot help but feel we have stumbled onto the movie set for a horror movie of some kind.
[ This is also ignoring the general horrors aren't specific to diffusion zones even if this one is having a particularly good showing. As another man rolls towards them Sunday's quick to push the table at a slight angle to avoid leaving any planes of it available to be bitten this time around. Success, it seems, as he glances up to the buffet tables only a few steps away now. ]
I half expect someone to have been waiting for us all along once we make it out of here.
[ Except that as they make it back to the tables away from the main fight (and what'd slightly followed them on their way out) - nothing happens. The reception area remains as it was all along with the sort of calmness which seemed so much like it fit for Aglaea's bathhouse, though now Sunday side eyes all of it before turning to Aglaea. ]
Perhaps it'd be best if... this was any inspiration instead of the rest.
[ She wonders what he could mean, expecting someone to be waiting for them at the end of this all – while to most other people it likely should paint a picture of a game show about pranks, Aglaea has no idea what something like that could mean. She imagines a fanfare of celebration for their grand victory, but somehow that seems not quite right to her, based on the small amusement Sunday seemed to offer.
Oh well, she doesn't think much on it more as they at last find their persons well away from the chaos of the venue. At least, their persons are. Unfortunately for Aglaea, her threads are still very much entangled in the events behind them, which can really only last so long. She presses her finger to her chin. ]
Regrettably, I still have interest in those silk plants which were left behind, [ she mutters with deep thought.
Her hand then turns over, an open palm, as if offering her thoughts out to him: ] I would imagine, once the guests have finished slaughtering each other to their demise, it will be easier to retrieve those things? The carnage certainly can't go on forever.
[ The plants - he remembers those too late as he looks up with a bit of remorse to it since they could've used the table to get to where they were. Probably. Maybe Sunday's slightly too confident in how well that plan worked out to get them out of there that, now that they're kind of, sort of out of imminent danger it seems like a longer loop around would've been possible.
He's halfway about to suggest that they simply take the table along again to do just that since the plants could provide some additional shielding on their return though he pauses at Aglaea's suggestion. Or question, then the pause continues for a couple more seconds while he thinks that over. ]
I'd say that anyone would be well out of our way at that point.
[ A little dry when it comes to any humor in there even if it is slightly there, but: she has a point. It would be a shame to come out here and end up not scavenging anything. Right? ]
There are no guarantees we'll run into another diffusion zone on the way back or that it'll have anything like it. [ Said in the way which someone does when they're thinking over something aloud, but - ] Though the same can be said for not knowing when the... carnage will end.
[ Carnage is a good word for it as Sunday looks back at the tables again. Or more specifically, the tablecloths on them spotless from no food being served as it continues to wait in the dishes for guests who seemingly will never arrive or will extend the murders if they do. The fabric looks expensive, however. ]
I wonder if perhaps they could be inspiration if, [ with a gesture to the tables, ] it would not be too much work to make them. A possible bonus advertising for your tailoring, if you wanted it to be.
Like asking a surgeon if he can apply a simple bandage, my skills are better suited for grander tasks. Aside from that, I am not eager for frivolous advertising about my garments. [ Although she understands why Sunday might suggest something like that, there is a hint of annoyance on her voice. It's not at him, but the situation they find themselves. And, well, she will always be a bit sad about not opening her tailor shop in her beautiful Okhema, but she would rather have scruples than a shred of a dream.
She thinks a moment longer, letting the awful scene play out for a moment longer. It would be difficult to simply wait, given how the scene continues to play out. Obtaining such fine cloths and the silk plants would be near impossible in the city, just the dame. ]
It would take some time, but I may be able to bind them with the threads. It would be a matter of laying a web thick enough before committing to the task. After that, I think if we move quickly, we can gather at least a portion of the decor available. [ She turns her body toward Sunday. ] And, we may even be able to obtain a larger portion of that excellent smelling meal.
That is, if you don't mind attempting a small time trial, Sunday. It would require us both to be quite quick. My threads cannot hold forever.
[ She smiles small, perhaps hopeful, that he is up for a challenge! ]
[ That comparison makes complete sense and so Sunday nods. It would be a waste of what he's seen of her skills so far when there's truly no comparison to be made. All the more reason to take no offense to the annoyance when he'll just assume that he earned it for that as he files that knowledge away for later.
Whatever musing he was about to slip into is halted at Aglaea's mention of her threads and how she might be able to affect the scene before them as it continues to unfold raucously despite the benefit of distance they now have. That suggestion is a solid one, and it causes the thought of another possibility along those lines to spark in his mind. ]
If you would have no objection, there is a chance I may be able to boost whatever web you weave. Not to the point of it being indestructible but in a way which may give us some additional time should Xipe agree.
[ He sees no reason for that to not be the case now like any of the blessings he's called forth before countless times since surely the Harmony will not object to this. A different kind of providing strength, to be sure, but as a test Sunday closes his eyes and summons the prayer.
And sure enough, there are the chords of the Harmony which call in return with the start to what will follow as he reopens his eyes with a faint smile. ]
[ She inquires, although it does not speak the entirety of her question. The Aeons are still quite unfamiliar to her, although she has been made aware of a small number of them from her time knowing the Trailblazers. If only her station hadn't kept her attention so fixed on her task with the Flame-Chase Journey, she may have had time to exercise a bit more curiosity. Oh well. ]
Interesting that your, [ she hesitates, trying to recall the foreign word, ] Aeon reaches you, even here. Mnestia's coreflame resides within my bosom, and so naturally Their divine authority should go wherever I am. Although... it does beg the question, how Amphoreus now fares without the Chrysalis of Gold at their disposal, as I have taken it with me here. [ A reminder of home and the dire state she left it in. For a moment, Aglaea forgets herself, Sunday, and the wedding Gladiators in the adjacent room as her head tilts, heavy with thought—
And then lifts, returned to the world of the Diadem. ] Forgive me. Please, show me the power which your Xipe bestows upon you, Sunday.
[ His Aeon - a simple association and one way to put it, and yet a way of putting it which might've once made him grimace. There never was any parting from Xipe in the end despite what he'd once believed.
More than that, it is interesting when it's something Sunday has wondered about ever since his arrival. That even though this is not the cosmos he knows or rather they know, somehow these powers granted have not wavered. His tuning remains as easy to reach for after those initial problems he attributed to a cosmic storm.
A worry he's discarded, and one which does not compare to what Aglaea mentions about Amphoreus being without her and the divine authority she carries. Something he cannot help her solve though he feels the weight of it and so he shakes his head as she mentions forgiving her. ]
You do not need any forgiveness for worrying about your home. That is something I understand, to say the least.
[ An understatement, but he will not dwell on it for either of them now. Instead, time to be her BiS partner 🥹
And (hopefully) show that potential as he shuts his eyes again, this time to bring forth those chords to wind them into light which settles over and around Aglaea. A burst of energy, some added speed - whatever she might need to make it safely in and out of the fray. ]
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She hums, a small, unhappy tune on her breath as she concurs. ] It does seem like a fair assessment. Please do be careful as you tread.
[ While Sunday is quite brave in stepping over the wrestling men, Aglaea seems significantly more trepidations as she stands on the opposite side of what feels like a Grand Canyon to her. She's staring straight head, but her "eyes" are more fixed on the two groomsmen before her as she frowns. She looks... uncomfortable, although the feeling doesn't paint itself well on her expression. ] Forgive me, I'm concerned about becoming wrapped up in their entanglement.
They're.... rather unpredictable. [ Which she continues to feel very uncertain about unpredictability.
With Sunday already bearing a table to ensure his safety, she can't exactly turn to him for help. Instead, she stands there, trying to gauge the best opening for herself, overthinking the situation before her somewhat. Unfortunately, if Sunday does look back at her, he will get a reasonable view of what can only be described as absolute carnage. Witness murder y/n? If yes, Aglaea continues to stand there. If no, Aglaea will trip trying to get over the combatants at just the right moment. ]
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[ In any situation, really, since he'll be honest with himself about that. The dislike of not knowing what to do here is exponentially increased; hard for it to not be (by his own logic) when it was his idea to visit here and now they have ended up in Whatever This Is.
With the table held up around him still there's really nothing to do but figure out what to do beyond standing there, though right as Sunday takes a step the men wrestling on the floor come his direction. An action he only barely manages to dodge though by doing so... he essentially ends up not all that far from where he'd started. Time to frown.
Actually, time to look at Aglaea to see how she's faring when her own path might be better so he turns. Right in time for a knife to be produced at the alter and even Sunday with his unbreakable composure can't help a gasp. ]
Miss Aglaea, I— don't turn around, if you can avoid it.
[ A suggestion which means most will turn, though now he's coming back with the table. There must be a way to share it as he looks at the ground again. Then - wait a minute. ]
I'll take the risk of items being thrown, but we should be able to use the table to keep anyone from coming near us.
[ Said as he sets it down on the ground, intending to move it along as they walk. It's not the strongest way to block the men. At least they can run into it instead of into them, with any luck. ]
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Sunday, my threads do not permit me so easily not to "see" that which is around me...
[ Which is to say, sadly, she may as well have turned around. Aglaea's composure is extremely unshaken by the murder that takes place behind her. Her expression is sadly, very flat, perhaps looking every so slightly tilted toward annoyance than actual mortification. She's just grateful that whatever splash damage is taking place behind her is far enough away that her clothing will not be ruined.
Aglaea maintains her focus on Sunday regardless, unmoved, as he puzzles through the situation they find themselves in. Teh table meets the floor once more, and her brows lift as he proposes his idea:]
Oh! How clever, [ She smiles slightly. ] Let me help you push.
[ There's no reason for a table this size to need two people pushing it, but considering it is now the barrier at their front, it seems fair to have them both working together.
And honestly, it's an incredible even on execution idea, because when the table meets the side of one of the men, his head turns fiercely to start gnawing on it with a vengeance. Oh god. ]
How disturbing... [ But, it works like a charm to push them out of the way. It's the homestretch Sunday!! ]
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Still: teamwork! The table does seem to help and Sunday would be lying - to himself, at any rate - if he wasn't pleased by that. Certainly something else to focus on, right up until the table gets noticed and what happens next isn't something he could've predicted.
Which is assuming he could've predicted any of this, though Sunday's nose crinkles right up until they push the table past the man and he's forced to stop chewing on it. ]
I cannot help but feel we have stumbled onto the movie set for a horror movie of some kind.
[ This is also ignoring the general horrors aren't specific to diffusion zones even if this one is having a particularly good showing. As another man rolls towards them Sunday's quick to push the table at a slight angle to avoid leaving any planes of it available to be bitten this time around. Success, it seems, as he glances up to the buffet tables only a few steps away now. ]
I half expect someone to have been waiting for us all along once we make it out of here.
[ Except that as they make it back to the tables away from the main fight (and what'd slightly followed them on their way out) - nothing happens. The reception area remains as it was all along with the sort of calmness which seemed so much like it fit for Aglaea's bathhouse, though now Sunday side eyes all of it before turning to Aglaea. ]
Perhaps it'd be best if... this was any inspiration instead of the rest.
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Oh well, she doesn't think much on it more as they at last find their persons well away from the chaos of the venue. At least, their persons are. Unfortunately for Aglaea, her threads are still very much entangled in the events behind them, which can really only last so long. She presses her finger to her chin. ]
Regrettably, I still have interest in those silk plants which were left behind, [ she mutters with deep thought.
Her hand then turns over, an open palm, as if offering her thoughts out to him: ] I would imagine, once the guests have finished slaughtering each other to their demise, it will be easier to retrieve those things? The carnage certainly can't go on forever.
[ Girl, you crazy. ]
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He's halfway about to suggest that they simply take the table along again to do just that since the plants could provide some additional shielding on their return though he pauses at Aglaea's suggestion. Or question, then the pause continues for a couple more seconds while he thinks that over. ]
I'd say that anyone would be well out of our way at that point.
[ A little dry when it comes to any humor in there even if it is slightly there, but: she has a point. It would be a shame to come out here and end up not scavenging anything. Right? ]
There are no guarantees we'll run into another diffusion zone on the way back or that it'll have anything like it. [ Said in the way which someone does when they're thinking over something aloud, but - ] Though the same can be said for not knowing when the... carnage will end.
[ Carnage is a good word for it as Sunday looks back at the tables again. Or more specifically, the tablecloths on them spotless from no food being served as it continues to wait in the dishes for guests who seemingly will never arrive or will extend the murders if they do. The fabric looks expensive, however. ]
I wonder if perhaps they could be inspiration if, [ with a gesture to the tables, ] it would not be too much work to make them. A possible bonus advertising for your tailoring, if you wanted it to be.
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Like asking a surgeon if he can apply a simple bandage, my skills are better suited for grander tasks. Aside from that, I am not eager for frivolous advertising about my garments. [ Although she understands why Sunday might suggest something like that, there is a hint of annoyance on her voice. It's not at him, but the situation they find themselves. And, well, she will always be a bit sad about not opening her tailor shop in her beautiful Okhema, but she would rather have scruples than a shred of a dream.
She thinks a moment longer, letting the awful scene play out for a moment longer. It would be difficult to simply wait, given how the scene continues to play out. Obtaining such fine cloths and the silk plants would be near impossible in the city, just the dame. ]
It would take some time, but I may be able to bind them with the threads. It would be a matter of laying a web thick enough before committing to the task. After that, I think if we move quickly, we can gather at least a portion of the decor available. [ She turns her body toward Sunday. ] And, we may even be able to obtain a larger portion of that excellent smelling meal.
That is, if you don't mind attempting a small time trial, Sunday. It would require us both to be quite quick. My threads cannot hold forever.
[ She smiles small, perhaps hopeful, that he is up for a challenge! ]
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Whatever musing he was about to slip into is halted at Aglaea's mention of her threads and how she might be able to affect the scene before them as it continues to unfold raucously despite the benefit of distance they now have. That suggestion is a solid one, and it causes the thought of another possibility along those lines to spark in his mind. ]
If you would have no objection, there is a chance I may be able to boost whatever web you weave. Not to the point of it being indestructible but in a way which may give us some additional time should Xipe agree.
[ He sees no reason for that to not be the case now like any of the blessings he's called forth before countless times since surely the Harmony will not object to this. A different kind of providing strength, to be sure, but as a test Sunday closes his eyes and summons the prayer.
And sure enough, there are the chords of the Harmony which call in return with the start to what will follow as he reopens his eyes with a faint smile. ]
When you are ready, then, Miss Aglaea.
[ Time trial it is!! ]
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[ She inquires, although it does not speak the entirety of her question. The Aeons are still quite unfamiliar to her, although she has been made aware of a small number of them from her time knowing the Trailblazers. If only her station hadn't kept her attention so fixed on her task with the Flame-Chase Journey, she may have had time to exercise a bit more curiosity. Oh well. ]
Interesting that your, [ she hesitates, trying to recall the foreign word, ] Aeon reaches you, even here. Mnestia's coreflame resides within my bosom, and so naturally Their divine authority should go wherever I am. Although... it does beg the question, how Amphoreus now fares without the Chrysalis of Gold at their disposal, as I have taken it with me here. [ A reminder of home and the dire state she left it in. For a moment, Aglaea forgets herself, Sunday, and the wedding Gladiators in the adjacent room as her head tilts, heavy with thought—
And then lifts, returned to the world of the Diadem. ] Forgive me. Please, show me the power which your Xipe bestows upon you, Sunday.
[ Her BiS partner, 😭 ]
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More than that, it is interesting when it's something Sunday has wondered about ever since his arrival. That even though this is not the cosmos he knows or rather they know, somehow these powers granted have not wavered. His tuning remains as easy to reach for after those initial problems he attributed to a cosmic storm.
A worry he's discarded, and one which does not compare to what Aglaea mentions about Amphoreus being without her and the divine authority she carries. Something he cannot help her solve though he feels the weight of it and so he shakes his head as she mentions forgiving her. ]
You do not need any forgiveness for worrying about your home. That is something I understand, to say the least.
[ An understatement, but he will not dwell on it for either of them now. Instead, time to be her BiS partner 🥹
And (hopefully) show that potential as he shuts his eyes again, this time to bring forth those chords to wind them into light which settles over and around Aglaea. A burst of energy, some added speed - whatever she might need to make it safely in and out of the fray. ]