Call Out Meme: Version 5.0

[oathshackledbird]

Edit: Closing this one out for now. Please put all new threads here! Thanks!
Fifth verse same as the first... It's new 'Call Me Out" Time!




【the ❝CALL ME OUT❞ meme】 V
a roleplay meme to inspire muses.

♛ refer to the list above for active muses. ♛ post "calling" one of them out — you can do so by putting their name journal in the subject line! (I have too many Lancers to just go by name! X.x ) ♛ can be informal/formal/comment spam/crosscanon/explicit/whatever tickles your fancy! ♛ feel free to make up a scenario at the start, or wait to see where things go. meme code.

Comments

[frilliance]

[I guess with oathshackedbird Dia. I haven't decided which scenario yet. I don't mind as long as it's not smut and there's humour somewhere. XD]

[oathshackledbird]

(OOC: Waves I need you to give me a little direction here. I have learned some about Edgeworth from Animus, but I really don't know enough to create a good prompt from thin air. Do you want it set in Animus? Do you want set in a more normal setting? Humor can be done either place...

Like I said on plurk, there is no hurry. Whenever you think of something, just let me know!)

hi this is jex, give me diarmuid, modern au, potential for smut eventually.

[bigcountry]

[It had always been Grit's big dream to eventually ditch the army, ditch any sort of regular job and just do something he's always enjoyed. Books. He's collected quite the amount in his spare time and knows that they won't be the only ones he'll collect. So, why not just move upwards in it and get his very own bookstore.

And that's what he has.

It's a simple place, a large amount of bookshelves, a coffee pot behind the counter, and the owner in the midst of another long good book. But thankfully, there's a large bell on top of the door, which rings loudly and causes him to look up from his book. He hums lightly, slipping the bookmark into it to make sure he didn't lose his place. He notices the black haired man entering and let's out a small chuckle, tipping his hat.]

Howdy. Can I help you find anythin'?

[Always trying to be polite to everyone.]

o7 Coming right up! :-D

[oathshackledbird]

[Diarmuid blinks in surprise when he is greeted so soon after stepping into the store. Even with the bell, usually in places like this whoever is watching the store is away from the desk, helping someone else or otherwise busy. It always gives him the chance to slip away to whatever section he wishes without actually needing to talk to anyone.

Not here apparently. Oh well, if he's recognized, he's recognized and if he's not, he's not. It's not like that many people are probably watching his face while he's on stage anyway. Backup dancers, no matter how good, aren't suppose to be the center of attention, even though he has been a time or two when the musical talent booked for the night has been particularly lackluster.

But that is neither here nor there. Diarmuid slides his hands into the pockets of his jeans and tilts his head down slightly so his golden eyes can peek up over the tops of the sunglasses he's wearing.]

Where do you hide your books on Ancient History? Specifically Irish and Scottish.

ur da best

[bigcountry]

[It's always been his goal to help whoever he can as fast as he can. And it just so happens that he's fortunate enough to see this man. He chuckles, taking a sip of his coffee before standing up. Over six feet tall, he steps from behind the counter.]

Mm, lemme see... I should have a few things on the subject.

[He doesn't outright recognize the person but he never does watch television or music videos, as shown by the smooth music that rolls through here, filling up any empty space with just some nice sweet music. Simple and not too overpowering.]

Anythin' in particular? I mostly keep used books here, fair warning.

[Heading over to a tightly packed shelf marked 'history' and reading the spines.]

:-D

[oathshackledbird]

Used books have the most character. It's fine.

[Diarmuid raises an eyebrow as he follows the man. He's not short himself at just over six foot and this guy is even taller than he is. Not what he would have expected to find in a book store.

There's not much typical about this book store, is there? It's actually kind of a nice change.]

I'm not really looking for anything specific. Just something I don't already have. Used books are better for that anyway. If it's too new, I probably already own a copy.

i'm bored let's do something horrible or hilariawkward with animus derry

[croibhristeoir]

[There was a familiar face wandering the Tower this afternoon. So familiar as to be virtually identical to someone else, in fact. The only obvious differences were the presence of both lances at once and the confused look he wore.]

[Clearly, this wasn't the same Diarmuid as the one already in the Tower; he appeared to be wandering aimlessly, cutting down the occasional monster that crossed his path and apparently looking for an exit. Of course he was; he had a Master waiting for him, after all. It wouldn't be right to keep him waiting.]

Oh no...this will be terri--I mean wonderful... :-D

[oathshackledbird]

[That stranger with a familiar face will be greeted by cursing as he makes onto the next floor. Curiously enough, the cursing is in a very familiar language. If he moves toward the cursing, he will find his twin in the middle of a pack of orcs. Said twin has a very frustrated look on his face and a pair of vaguely familiar swords in his hands.

Of course, the ability to summon Gae Dearg hasn't returned to him yet. Almost all the rest of his Servant abilities have returned, even his agility and speed as of this morning, but can he call back his spear?

Nope.

As much as he loves the swords Waver has made for him, he really wishes he had his spear right now. These orcs are getting too close for comfort, especially since he is still recovering from his sword wound.

He's a little busy right now, double. Sorry, about the not noticing you bit...]

muhuhuha

[croibhristeoir]

[...What the ye olde absolute fuck.]

[Not to say that's remotely what Lancer was thinking, but the sentiment was there. On top of everything else, what kind of illusory nonsense was this? For just a moment he wanted to ignore what must have been a hallucination and resume searching for an exit, but...well, that would have been cowardly of him.]

[Who or whatever this apparent copy of him was, Lancer couldn't very well just leave. He sprang into action as swiftly as ever, both lances flashing to strike down three orcs in a few swift motions.]

[Explanations could come when things were a little quieter.]

[oathshackledbird]

[Diarmuid doesn't pay much attention to his rescuer right away. He can't. Two orcs dash at him even as the three others are cut down behind him. Blades flash forward cutting the head from one and taking the arm off another. Diarmuid spins the other blade in, finishing off that second orc and looking to see if there is another waiting...

What he finds is no orc, but his own face. For a moment all he can do is stare. Then, he sighs and closes his eyes.]

Really, Ruana? A game of duplicates? Are you tired this month? Do we have you distracted?

THAT'D MAKE MORE SENSE IF I USED THE RIGHT FUCKIN JOURNAL

[velveteenmage]

[It was oddly quiet in the Tower that day. On the dorm floors, a new arrival walked quickly through the hallways--paced, really. The student visibly struggled to stay calm, wringing his hands and frowning at the unfamiliar surroundings. This couldn't really be serious, could it? Maybe he was dreaming, or maybe he was stuck in a Reality Marble. Maybe, maybe, maybe, all he could do was guess wildly and it was infuriating.]

[Shaking his head in a futile attempt to clear out chaotic thoughts, he scowled and pressed both hands to his head. Damn it, where was Lancer when he actually needed him-?! Waver might've shouted in frustration if anyone was there to hear; as it was, he wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention to his surroundings. Odds were good he could walk right into something or someone at this rate.]

*snickers and huggles* Is his elder self still in the Tower for reference?

[oathshackledbird]

[The odds are good, but fortunately for Waver, the person he would have run into is quick on his feet. Instead of getting jarred to a standstill, there is only a slight jolt as a pair of hands gently stop his progress. Then, there is a soft laugh.]

What has got you so upset today? Did Rider come back and tease you for not getting any taller while he was away?

[Oops...why does this feel like a case of mistaken identity?]

SURE WHY NOT

[velveteenmage]

Wha-- [Waver seemed to have a minor short circuit, looking from Diarmuid to his inactive Command Spells and back again in honest shock and confusion. Which, in a way entirely unique to Waver, immediately shifted to irritation.]

What are you babbling about now?! Where have you been, I've been looking everywhere for you! And of course I'm upset, I blinked and everything's gone bloody pear-shaped even more so than it already was!

Grainne Attack!

[athousandcurses]

Grainne was pleasantly surprised to find the meadow on her exploration of this strange tower. After twenty five floors, she was quite ready to pause and take stock of things mentally. Besides... it had been quite a while since she paused to just sit and enjoy a moment's break, and never mind the stains it will leave on her clothes!

Sitting down in the middle of the grass, she sighed and looked around, reaching out to pluck a few flowers and set them in her hair. It almost felt like home. Almost.

Half an hour later, it's no surprise she settled back on the grass and closed her eyes... the meadow was far too relaxing for her to be tempted by the strange gray and white walls and what other wonders (or horrors) the other floors had to offer.

:-D

[oathshackledbird]

When hunting monsters and patrolling the Tower isn't enough to wear the great hound out, Diarmuid often brings Mac an Chuill here to the Meadow. It is a safe place where the dog can run and play as much as he wants until his energy finally runs low. Of course, if there is someone around, Diarmuid always asks if the rambunctious dog will be bothering them. Today, however, they seem to be in luck...

But no, the Meadow is not empty. Diarmuid senses the presence of an unfamiliar servant at the same time the hound lets out a loud, happy bark. Almost as if...he somehow knows the unfamiliar presence even though that should be impossible. An order to back down is just about to pass Diarmuid's lips when the hound bounds off into the Meadow ready to affectionately 'slime' the familiar and beloved owner of that smell. All Diarmuid can do is run behind him calling out...

"Mac an Chuill! Stop!"

[athousandcurses]

Grainne hadn't been fully asleep when the tongue ravaged her face, but she had let her hair out enough to serve as a soft pillow against the grass, so when she flew up in shock at both the lick and then the so familiar voice... her hair went flying too.

She doesn't understand right away, and she's distracted... There's an enemy presence nearby. Instantly, she shifts into her Servant armor, if one could call a white dress and green cloak armor of any sort and jumps to her feet. Peering through the veil she now has on her face, Grainne's heart stops for a moment when she sees just who it is that had called the dog...

Frozen to the ground, she makes no aggressive action. She couldn't, even if she wanted to. In fact... a hand slowly pulls the knife out of the sheath at her belt and tosses it on the ground. She doesn't speak, but the gesture is obvious; she surrenders.

(school verse!)

[athousandcurses]

[The door opens, letting in a fresh breeze into the old warehouse mingled with the scent of flowers. Grainne's arms are filled with flowers. The mass is so large it almost dwarfs her own small frame, and she sets them down on the nearest table before closing the door behind her.]

I'm back! Are you here, dear heart?

[She pauses to peer up into the nest and then into the school itself, trying to let her eyes adjust to the darker lighting. There's still a bit of sun glare in her eyes.]

[oathshackledbird]

I'm here.

[Diarmuid calls out before walking out of one of the rooms that are set up for specialty training practice. However, as soon as he sees the table full of flowers, he freezes and his face grows pale.]

Grainne, where did you get those from? Are you feeling funny at all?

[athousandcurses]

[Grainne pauses for a moment, wondering why he looks so strange, and goes to pick up her bundle of flowers again.]

Funny? No. I'm fine. I went walking and there were so many flowers out, I started picking and before I knew it, I had this bundle.

[She smiles brightly, though a bit hesitant.]

Do you think we can decorate with these? I think I have enough to make the nest look like a meadow.

beep beep comin through

[fionnuisce]

[Waver mindlessly turned a photograph over and over in his hand as he walked through the dormitory floors. On edge for a myriad of reasons, the magus made a concentrated effort to stay visibly calm.]

[First things first; while he was waiting for Aria's report, there was something Waver was having trouble leaving alone. After that whole clusterfuck with Grainne and that other idiot Lancer, he had to make some kind of effort to make sure Diarmuid was alright. The whole thing had been an unpleasant affair, and Waver knew he was far from any sort of counselor on these matters.]

[Stepping into his partner's room with little more than a light knock on the door, Waver replaced the picture in his notebook and the notebook itself into its place in his jacket pocket.]

Diarmuid?

[oathshackledbird]

[Diarmuid knows he should be doing something--patrolling, working on his harp, training, something--but instead of doing that, he finds himself laying on his bed staring at his trunk. His head is resting on his arms and every so often, Mac an Chuill will whine softly from where he is laying with his head on Diarmuid's back. He knows his master is upset and he wants to help. He just doesn't know how. Of course, he's not the only one who doesn't know how to fix things. How to do that is something Diarmuid would like to know as well.

He's so lost to his thoughts that he doesn't even notice his partner approaching the room until Waver enters and then calls out to him. Diarmuid rolls his head to the side so he can look at him.]

...

[Obviously, Diarmuid means to say something, but his voice isn't there. What does he say after all of that? He's terrified. He's tired. He's confused. He's sad...]

I...

[Yeah, saying he is sorry isn't going to go over well, so he's just going to be quiet and wait to see what Waver has to say.]

[fionnuisce]

...it's alright.

[Waver himself didn't know what to do or say on the matter. How exactly did one deal with things like this when they still had trouble with basic emotions? He walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed with a halfhearted smile.]

Sorry--I must have just made things worse, didn't I?

it has now been 0 days since our last domestic nonsense

[fionnuisce]

[Remember that time Waver mentioned having a spare room he stored all manner of who-knows-what in, Diarmuid?]

[He is in fact in that room right now, with all manner of books, paperwork, and old equipment flying out the open door. Volumen Hydragyrum's already had to sprout two extra arms trying to catch all of it.]

[Please bring sense to this cleaning and remodeling rampage.]

Yay! Domestic nonsense! :-D

[oathshackledbird]

[There aren't a lot of rules to follow when living with a Waver. One of them, though, is to never leave him alone for long...

It looks like Diarmuid left him along for just a little too long.

He's not exactly sure what to say when he sees what is going on. What madness has possessed his partner? Is this what they call Spring Fever?]

Waver? Are...you feeling all right?

[fionnuisce]

Hm?

[Waver didn't seem to think much of it; in a rare show of owning casual clothes, he was in jeans and a loose black shirt, regarding Diarmuid curiously from underneath a light layer of dust.]

I'm fine, why?

[Because your familiar is holding a stack of books and discarded alchemical equipment in four arms?]