legomachines | .soul campaign revival

.soul campaign revival

"Did you really think I would let you forget my story? My legend dates back to the 12th century..."

Congratulations! You arrived to Death City just in time for the holidays. Rumour has it that Excalibur just couldn't let the season pass without gracing the entire multiverse with yet another retelling of his magnificent story, so he pulled a few strings to make this happen, but no one really knows if that's true or not. Have you been here before or are you brand new to the city? Are you a Meister or a Weapon? (In case you're a Weapon, don't forget that throwing yourself down a flight of stairs is a great way to find out what your Weapon form is!) Here, have a brand new communicator and the key to your new living quarters. And for the love of Shinigami, don't press the SOS button unless it really is an emergency.

Welcome to the SC revival post, and Happy Holidays! soul_campaign was a jamjar rp set in the Soul Eater verse that ran from June 2009 until its endgame in August 2014 (June 2009 - October 2010 in game). Some characters chose to stay in the city after endgame while others chose to return to their worlds; others came and went as the game progressed. Feel free to jump in and relive your days at SC, or skip right ahead to present day and revisit the city years after the war ended. Why not throw new characters into the mix as well? The sky is the limit! Just play nice and have fun!

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[It's hard not to let his thoughts dwell on the worst case scenario, especially when he knows his partner's thinking of the same thing. The hand on his shoulder tightens only a little bit, but it's more than enough to get that message across loud and clear: a message that Near reciprocates in kind.

Near brings his hand up once again, but his touch is far less subtle this time around: his fingers curl around Mello's wrist, the gesture as possessive as it's always been, as if his firm grip could anchor his Meister to him and to this world. In his eight years in Death City, Near has made a conscious effort to become slightly more sociable and less unpleasant to others-- as much as someone like him can ever do either of those things, that is-- but in other ways, he has gotten much worse. He's more ruthless now (and even more calculating) than he's ever been: the stakes have never been higher, after all. I'd kill anyone who hurt him, he overheard Mello say so many years ago, and Near has felt the same way for quite some time. Just like Mello, he's willing to go to great lengths to keep his partner-- and their partnership-- safe.

He rubs his thumb idly along Mello's wrist, feeling the steady beat of his pulse under his fingertip. Near can't help but wish that they were somewhere more private right now.]

Mm-hm, [he hums in reply, already going through a mental plan of where they should start looking. There's something very endearing about the way Mello perks up at the thought of checking the restricted section, and Near can't hold back a small amused huff that would have been someone else's laugh.] Try not to sound so enthusiastic when we do get there.

[Mello makes a quiet noise in response to his partner's touch, somewhere between a hitch in his breath and a satisfied hum, and with unthinking, almost unconscious, intimacy, lifts Near's hand and presses a kiss to his palm, thinking that even with Near's usual reticence about being somewhat in public, they both need the gesture more than they need discretion right now.]

I know better than that.

[His days of scheming to get a few moments of access to the restricted section are over, though Shibusen is still, in his not so humble opinion, too damn stingy in doling out permission to enter it. Being too excited about it definitely raises red flags with them, as if they think he's going to make a beeline to the most dangerous information and try it all out for himself. Which he wouldn't. Not too often, anyway.]

We could make a stop at the flat if you like, [he says through their resonance, the tone of his mental voice the equivalent of a teasing smirk.]

[Near didn't mean to tease him, he really didn't, and he's about to point that out through their resonance when Mello lifts his hand and kisses his palm, a gasp escaping his lips and his thoughts short-circuiting for a moment. It's not the gesture itself that makes him react so strongly-- although it does help: Near's hands remain one of the most sensitive parts of his body, after all-- it's also the way Mello does it, as if their intimacy has become as instinctive and necessary as breathing.

(It has.)

Mello is right, of course: no matter how much Near dislikes public displays of affection (even if the 'public' space in question happens to be his or Mello's office, which are usually kept locked, just in case), the truth is that they both need the closeness right now. He sets his empty cup of coffee on the desk and looks up at his partner, brushing his fingertips softly against Mello's cheek.]

I know you do.

[He just couldn't resist playing with him, that's all. At his Meister's next words, Near raises an eyebrow, trying (and failing) to stop his lips from curling into an amused little smile. Without pulling his hand away, Near gets up from the chair, his head tilted slightly to the side as he watches the other man.]

Is that all you can think about?

[He sort of missed asking his partner that. Just a little bit.]

[Mello huffs a laugh at the familiar question, and leans into Near's touch, as unthinkingly as he lifted his hand to kiss it moments ago. He feels the Weapon's thoughts begin to short out over their resonance, and even after all these years, he still gets a thrill that's equal parts smugness and surprise: I did that.

His office door is indeed closed and locked, so he leans in and steals a quick kiss, as if reassuring himself of Near's solidity.]

Mm, but this time, you're the one who thought of it.

[For all his teasing, though, he'll be distracted and unable to relax (even as much as he does now, which is more than he used to, but still not exactly what normal people would call 'relaxing') until they figure out what the fuck is going on, and stop it if they need to.]

Think you can keep your mind on the current problem a little longer?

[On any other day, Near would have tugged on a strand of hair to chastise Mello for kissing him while they’re at work, would have reminded him that they have a job to do, followed by a witty or sarcastic reply to wrap up his perfectly logical argument with. But today is wildly different from every other day for the past 7 years, and no matter how logical and work oriented he is, Near needs the closeness as much as his partner does. Which is why he doesn’t complain or react negatively: quite the contrary, really, because Near leans in and lets his forehead fall on to Mello’s shoulder, his hand curling tight in blonde hair.]

I must have picked it up from our resonance, [he sounds casual as he speaks, as if he hasn’t just decided to hold on to his partner for a little while. The truth is, Near still feels rattled enough to seek out closeness like this, even though the tension that gripped him earlier has mostly faded away.

The real answer to Mello’s question is it’s impossible for me to focus on anything that isn’t the problem at hand, and you know it, but Near isn’t going to say it like that, not today.]

As long as you don’t distract me, it should be fine.

[Simply holding each other has always felt, strangely, almost more intimate than sex, maybe because it fills an emotional need they're both still reluctant to acknowledge any way but silently. That Near would do it so simply now, of his own accord and with so little reluctance or ceremony, is just further evidence that he really is worried.

Not that Mello isn't. He slips an arm around his Weapon, hand settling between Near's shoulder blades as if to steady them both.]

Or I'm the terrible influence on you I always aspired to be.

[He moves his hand on Near's back up enough to reach into his hair and give a curl a teasing tug.]

I'll do my best to resist your charms until we find an answer.

[It works: Near does feel steadier, and his hand loosens its tight grip on Mello’s hair, so that he is toying idly with the blonde strands. Before, he would have excused his need for closeness with how it improves his cognitive abilities by allowing him to tune out external stimuli, but right now, there’s nothing he could say to mask his worry. Mello knows him too well for that.]

I’ve always known you wanted to corrupt my purity and innocence, but I wasn’t aware that was your aspiration in life, [he begins, well aware of the ridiculousness of his own words, because he has never been pure or innocent, not since he started his life at Wammy’s anyway. And then, because he can’t resist adding:] Good luck with that. I’ve been told I’m irresistible.

[Sometimes, he can’t help but think back to how their relationship started in Death City, how a partnership that simultaneously thrived on conflict and suffered because of it developed into this. He thinks back to how things were at the beginning, when an alcohol fueled first kiss was enough to make him freak the fuck out and transform into his Weapon form to try to escape that situation; he thinks back to Valentine’s Day, when those damn truth serum chocolates brought on an unprecedented clusterfuck of unwanted truths and even more unwanted realizations and emotions. As much as he intensely dislikes Excalibur, he did give their emotionally stunted selves a little (big) push. Near will never understand how someone (something?) like that can even be considered the greatest Weapon in the world, he really doesn’t--

Wait. Near pulls back slightly, just enough to actually look at his partner. Could it be...?]

Excalibur, [he says all of a sudden, his eyes widening as his mind goes through various scenarios, all of which preposterous but equally plausible. Without even realizing he’s doing it, Near starts twirling Mello’s hair rather quickly, his gaze unseeing as he thinks back to all the research he’s done in the past 8 years.] He’s a Great Old One, and used to be part of the Eight Warlords. The Great Old Ones emit soul wavelength on a godlike level, originating a specific kind of madness wavelength which is strong enough to cause natural disasters or disrupt weather patterns, among other phenomena. I haven’t read about it causing disruptions in the spacetime continuum or multidimensional travel, but maybe it’s possible...

Heh, you didn't know it was my goal in life to seduce you? That's why I worked so hard at it, even though you made me wait forever.

[It felt like forever; Mello has more patience now than he once did, but that's not saying much. He still sees little point in waiting for something once he's decided he wants it, no matter if it's a goal, a possession, or his partner.]

It was worth it.

[Only a few years ago, he wouldn't have dreamed of saying something like that, but now that he's older than he ever dared imagine he'd live to be, worrying about shit like seeming too sappy for saying something that's true has just started to seem not worth the effort. He notices that Near has switched to twirling his hair as he thinks instead of his own, but he's long since stopped minding. Clearly, the Weapon doesn't even realize he has claimed Mello's hair as his thinking aid. It's weirdly charming, though Mello might refrain from saying that out loud, given the grief Near would give him for it.

Mello's a step behind his partner's train of thought, and when Near mentions Excalibur, he leans back, too, and stares at him, dawning horror written clearly on his face at the mention of the tiny, infuriating, singing... thing.]

No...

[It makes complete sense, though: despite how Excalibur comes across, Near's right. All the information about him points to a being of immense age and power. After a moment, Mello's face clears and he huffs a laugh.]

But if anything would pull this just for shits and giggles, it's him.

Edited 2018-01-07 05:59 (UTC)

[Will he ever stop being surprised whenever Mello says something that could be considered sappy? The answer is a resounding no. That doesn’t mean he dislikes it, however; he just finds it oddly endearing when Mello says things like that, even more so because he can never predict when he’ll do it next. He really can’t talk, though; Near is guilty of having felt (and sometimes said) things that were uncharacteristically sentimental for him, during the past few years. But then again, any display of affection could be considered uncharacteristically sentimental-- or even sappy-- for him, given that he spent most of his life making sure he had the emotional range of a snow ball.]

Anticipation makes everything more interesting, in the end, [he replies, a playful tone to his voice. Teasing his Meister was definitely not the reason why Near took so long to reciprocate his advances, and they both know it: their relationship couldn’t have developed any faster than it did, not with Near’s issues with physical and emotional intimacy. If anything, everything that happened between them happened faster than they could have ever predicted.] You taught me that.

[He can see the exact moment Mello connects the dots, and his partner’s reaction would have made him huff a quiet (and rare) laugh if not for everything else happening today. As it is, his lips curl into an amused little smile, and although his tone of voice remains neutral, there’s a warmth to his gaze that doesn’t happen very often.]

Exactly, [he agrees, his fingers twirling Mello’s hair slower than before.] As far as disturbing events go, I would have greatly preferred the chocolates from seven years ago.

[Which is saying a lot, for a Wammy’s kid: that he would willingly trade what has been happening today for another 48 hours of forced truths only shows how far they’ve come, and how much he trusts his partner. He doesn’t just trust Mello in general-- he trusts him not to pull the same shit he did the last time they were forced to tell the truth, because things are different now, and infinitely better.

He knows, logically, that admitting such a thing is a confirmation of the unshakable faith he has in his Meister, but he doesn’t realize just how much his words reveal about how deep his feelings go.]

I think you're the one who taught me that, really.

[He would argue he was the one who needed to learn it more, at least in terms of patience, and that Near needed to learn there are things worth anticipating. He might have asked why Near is reminiscing more than usual, but he doesn't need to. It's been on his mind, too; how could it not be? How far they've come, from the morning when Mello woke up horrified to find himself in the same bed as Near to now, when it feels wrong to sleep without his partner in his arms. He knows now it wasn't horror or revulsion, that morning, but terror--even as he resisted and tried to deny it, some part of his mind knew, even then, exactly what it meant that they'd moved closer as they slept. He knew what they could become to each other, and how much it would mean. And how much they stand to lose if the promise made to them at the end of the war proves false.

Mello leans closer again, resting his cheek against Near's hair. He's not ready to let go of his partner yet, especially after Near's admission he'd prefer the truth chocolates and all the dangers they bring to this. They know each other's souls; the truth can't hurt them anymore. But going back to being afraid, all the fucking time, that one of them would be sent back? Yeah, Mello would choose the chocolates any day, too.]

We both fought so hard against wanting each other. I can't be too angry, anymore, at anything that forced us to get past that.

[He sighs. The next step is as obvious as it is distasteful.]

I suppose we have to pay that thing a visit.

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