Welcome to The Duality of Man, an original animanga role-play that features numerous supernatural creatures. Unfortunately, these various species have distanced themselves because of the war that occurred thousands of years ago, plaguing some with eyes that only see their dualism. While others meddle themself with their differences, two groups fight, each attempting to eliminate the other in for their definition of worldly peace. These two groups of the Terror Response Syndicate (TRS) and the Assembly of Phantoms (AP). With individuals fighting merely over their differences, it brings uncertainty to the outcome of this war.
We happily accept all role-players as long as they obey the rules and are capable of meeting our word count of 50. This does include those who are unfamiliar with this style of role-playing. The staff of The Duality of Man are willing to happily help those who are new to the role-playing world so they feel comfortable on site. Feel free to message the staff if you need help, they can be found here or in the site Discord and will gladly answer questions alongside calm concerns. If you have any suggestions we would love to hear them; guests may use the support board as a suggestion area as well. Should you decide to join, may I say welcome to the site and we all hope you enjoy your time here.
Yours Truely,
The Staff
season
Summer 2024
Heat has broken through into a glorious summer. The snow has entirely dried through the spring, leaving to the brilliance of the warmer months. Terror activity has risen as people are brought out of their homes, leaving the TRS in a position of consistent work. Each are attempting to maintain victory in the endless struggle for power.
Since the wonderful members of TDOM enjoy the site enough to play around on it, this thread is to assist with the site's tidying! Functionality is important and we want to make the site functional even if its activity will be minimal at best!
Sometimes certain emotions are similar enough to each other that you get them mixed up. Sometimes, after you learn the difference, you still choose not to say anything. Sometimes you learn to act like nothing’s different. Sometimes you slip up, but you find a way to play it off as something it isn’t. Sometimes you have to hold onto yourself by a thin thread and hope he’s too fucking stupid for once to notice.
Admiration - it’s an honest feeling, isn’t it? You’ve always felt that - you know that for sure. It’s funny isn’t it - how most people can cleanly separate the right from the wrong. They can separate their feelings for a person from what that person does - can see and admit what’s fucked up and do what’s right for the greater good. You’ve never been able to truly do that without being dishonest, have you?
You like to pretend you didn’t notice. You wanted to delude yourself into thinking he didn’t want to come. In a way, you were trying to protect him, as misguided as your way of doing that was. It was better than the alternative. That’s what you tell yourself over and over again. Pretend to be blind. Fake it until you make it. If you can make yourself believe everything is the way you wanted it to be, then it’ll be okay.
You pretend you’re devastated. A good child would be - a normal person would be. But something has been festering under the surface for years. You’ve lied to everyone and everything so much that you grew to hate them, didn’t you? Of course — that didn’t, and never has - stopped you from acting. From pretending. You’re such a good actor that sometimes you wonder if you were the one who was truly twisted. Nobody good can lie as easily as you can, can they?
Even though your parents are gone now, you’ve been living a lie far too long to stop now. Besides - you still hope he can be happy. He did get a girlfriend, they seem to be serious enough to you. If someone could be happy - well, he worked for it the hardest. Something about it though, made you feel hollow. Someone good - someone good would be able to feel happy for someone else, right?
The first time you really stand out again - you really do pay the price. You’ve forgotten how much a slap could hurt - though it stings worse than the time your dad scolded you for things out of your control. This slap - it rung in your ears, reached deep into your core - and shattered against your still beating heart. You’ve forgotten what happens when you defy family. You deserved the reminder.
You might have wanted to intervene - but he was right. They’re not your kids - it’s not your place. You don’t fight it when the soldiers drag you away. Besides you think that cold holding cell was safer - he would never set foot in a place like this. It was beneath him. It was a message loud and clear. Stay in your place. You get it, you understand. There is no place for you anymore. Here though, you can cry. You’ve always done that silently - and you know nobody will look. So almost like you’re a child again - you pull your knees up to your chest, bury your face in them and cry.
After that - you keep a distance. You have a contact - they tell you important things that happen in his life. The family is falling apart, you knew it would. You remembered his eyes the last time you saw him. He wasn’t happy. Your feelings are a conflicted tightrope walk, and you’re trying to balance on feet blackened with bruises. You should feel bad it’s falling apart. You do. You don’t. You want him to suffer as much as you are. You don’t want him to suffer at all. He deserves to be happy for once. So do you. But you don’t. He doesn’t. But you want him to be happy.
That woman’s flower curse almost makes you laugh. Such a cruel, twisted thing anyone else might think of that statement. That sentiment. But that’s not completely right. Neither is it completely wrong. You see - it’s hard to take a curse seriously when the whole family felt cursed, felt wrong from the very beginning. What’s another damning dynamic to a family that’s ripped itself apart by it’s own seams?
The clock slowly ticks the time away. One day it would be over. Things couldn’t sustain themselves at this pace. Something had to give. Someone had to break. Closing your eyes for a moment - you wonder who and when. What will flip the switch and signal in the end? You don’t - and never have - had the answers.
“Not good enough, dragon boy.” The seraphim’s voice is cold, disappointed. As Naoya starts to rise, he’s pushed back onto the ground, the heel of Oriade’s boot digging into the space between his shoulder blades. “With the difference in your ages, if you tried to face him in a fight - he would chew you up and spit you out. You’re good - sure, but he’s older and stronger.”
“I know - now let me up.” Oriade’s heel pulled back, away, and the seraphim was waiting, a hand on one hip, and something between a smirk and a sneer on his face. “You must be desperate to toughen up if you tracked me down for help.” Naoya says nothing and Oriade shrugs lightly. “Kid you’ve got guts but if I was trying you’d have been dead a long time ago.” Stretching out his stance, Oriade drew the rose rapier he always kept at his side.
“I think in order to get through to you how much you have to learn I have to show you just how easily you could die.” The seraphim was fast, almost too fast for Naoya to really track what was going on. He barely managed to sway himself out of the way of the first slice - but even that wasn’t really enough. Silver hairs were cut through by the flashing blade and before he could move further, he felt a shuddering kick sweep his feet out from under him and throw him back on the ground. The tip of the beautiful rose blade was at his throat. “Checkmate. You better try seriously now, boy, or I’ll feed you to your father myself.”
Day after day Naoya met with the elusive and fierce seraphim in secret, juggling the exhaustive battle training with the duties he had taken up by joining the TRS. Almost every meeting ended with Naoya on the ground and almost too tired and sore to go home - but it was something he considered necessary. Slowly he began to be able to take more and more. Slowly he began to be able to actually start to catch his mentor off-guard.
Oriade’s fiery hued wings unfurled as he swiftly parried the blow of Naoya’s sword and ducked around it, smashing the hilt of his weapon against the side of Naoya’s face and causing him to stagger back. If Naoya was practiced grace, then his mentor was a blade dancer, naturally moving in the flow of battle as easily as he drew breath. It was hard practice verses someone who could practically control the flow of the battle itself. Spinning on his heels, the seraphim was quick to lash out again with his blade, Naoya barely again managing to shift just enough to make the blow sing past one ear.
Trading more blows and parries, Naoya could easily beat Oriade out on raw power - but Oriade was faster and swifter. He could parry a blow and use the momentum to his advantage, control Naoya’s movements like a puppet on strings. However, one day the tides shifted. Seeing an opening, for the first time in months, Naoya was able to touch his mentor in combat. He had faked the savage seraphim by releasing his weapon at the last second - and while the seraphim had over-focused on the large blade, struck a bone-shattering punch against the delicate seeming seraphim’s jaws. His mentor staggered back, a strange furious light dancing like a fire behind intense eyes - and Naoya expected punishment.
Instead Oriade cracked a smile - as fierce and wicked as it came off seeing. “So you’ve finally managed to touch me huh?” He put his hands on Naoya’s shoulder. “Never stop. Never falter. I know you can do it, and if you ever need my help - you know where to find me.” Naoya frowned a little more deeply - if he had come to know his mentor at all - that was a farewell. But he’s come far, he will survive. It’ll be okay.
”I can help you, please just come with me.” Gwyddien’s voice is soft, pleading. Icarus was his long lost twin, and something within himself resonated, wanting to give the brunette a fresh start. A chance to start anew, to leave all of what has happened to him behind. Icarus’s face flashed with irritation, then a sneer. ”Did ... did you try and get close to me to pull THIS self-righteous bullshit?!” Icarus’s voice is a whiplash of heat, angry and violent.
Gwyddien recoils a little bit when faced with such a reaction, setting his jaw and shaking his head lightly. ”Icarus I care about you. You don’t have to suffer anymore. Please, can you just, for once ... trust me?” Icarus scoffed and turned on his heel, intent clear to leave, but Gwyddien acts fast. Darting forward on quick, light feet, he closes a hand around Icarus’s wrist and forces him to a halt. ”Don’t fucking touch me!”
Before Gwyddien could catch to the slight tells of an attack, the wrist was pulled free and a punch connected with one cheek, the bruising blow catching him off guard and sending him stumbling backwards. Before Icarus could start to run again, Gwyddien collected himself and threw himself forward, Icarus’s dark eyes narrowing in disgust as they collided. “Come with me!! It’s better than letting anyone else catch you!”
Icarus twisted under his grip, managing to land a stinging slap that sounded like a cracking tree limb in his own ears. Gwyddien’s hand came to lock around Icarus’s, a frown on his face. ”I don’t understand why you’re so an-“ Icarus’s response was like a hissing snake, hateful and filled Gwyddien with dread. ”Trash like you doesn’t deserve to decide what’s right for me.” A searing pain ripped through his ribs and Gwyddien recoiled, rolling off of Icarus by instinct, a hand going to his ribs as he shakily got to his feet. When he pulled away, his hand was smeared with blood, his eyes lowering to find that a deep slash had torn through his clothes and into his flesh.
Icarus had managed to get him with a knife, likely hidden on his person somewhere he was able to reach with his free hand. Movement drew his vision towards the fleeing Icarus and Gwyddien curses under his breath. If he let him get away now - it would be really difficult to catch him in the future. He would likely cut off any contact they had to each other - and be very careful to avoid being noticed when venturing out.
Pulling in a breath and trying to shove the pain of the injury aside, he started to follow in pursuit - before Icarus managed to swerve into a different alleyway and out of sight. Biting his lip to avoid letting a curse loose - Gwyddien tried to hurry his own pace, trying to keep his own breath steady as he rushed into the alley Icarus turned into to see - nothing. What...? Gwyddien takes a few more steps into the alleyway, gazing around a bit further before a chill creeps up his spine.
The shadows at the entrance shifted and just as Gwyddien turned - Icarus struck with nothing but sheer killing intent in his steely eyes. ”All I care about is being at his side. It seems I have to get rid of you to keep that safe.” A question started to form on Gwyddien’s tongue but he didn’t get to ask. The silver flash of the knife was quick and decisive. Gwyddien hadn’t stood a chance the instant he had been taken off guard.
”....” Icarus let out a breath he hadn’t noticed that he’d been holding. There was no taking it back now, though when he really thought about it, Icarus didn’t find it regretful. Nothing and nobody was important enough to get between him and Azaziah. Nobody. And that wasn’t going to change. Sheathing the dripping knife, he turned his back to the alleyway and began to head home. Today wasn’t a good day.
Rubble crunched under the feet of the delicate nephilim with pale hair, the tattered traveling cloak billowing behind him like the breath of some ancient beast. He was beyond exhausted - fighting to escape from a group with fanatical beliefs and then running for his life - days without proper rest - well, it was taking it’s toll on him. He had hoped to find civilization and shelter - but a soon as he had realized the state of this village, he knew that wasn’t likely. It looked absolutely decimated - with no signs of life.
Looking around him again, he decided his best course of action was to find the most stable building around here and shelter there for a little while - and then be on his way quickly. More rubble crunched under his boots as he explored the broken town, noting some sort of central fountain that still drizzled fresh water from it’s ornamental spout - what looked like a snake with a sun insignia carved onto it’s snout. Odd - snakes and the sun were not any real markers of anything he knew of.
Pausing to look at the cracked coils, his gaze drifted downwards to what would be the very bottom of the fountain - there was what looked like a star chart or some really decorated sundial. But why would this be placed under the water? Reaching up to touch the worn snout of the snake - the stone felt cold and rough. When he pulled his hand away, it was filthy with dust and grime - though he also recognized the scent lingering around it. Gunpowder. This place had likely been caught up in a war of some kind.
Wiping his pale hand on his traveling cloak - he turned and surveyed the house-like structures around him. If the placement of the buildings around this fountain were taken into consideration, this was likely a gathering place. His eyes settled on a building that looked the least worse for wear, and he set off in that direction.
Setting foot through the doorless entryway, his eyes started to adjust rather quickly. Stepping inside he was met with surprise, there were tracks within the thick dust - someone could actually still be left in this place. Clutching his protection amulet to his chest and giving it a squeeze for luck - he slowly follows the tracks in the dirt. Eyes gleamed in the dark and he paused - before he noticed exposed wiring on the other’s body form. A golem? He seemed damaged...
Rushing over to the golem, Dae-Jin dropped to his knees and touched the damaged part of the golem’s frame. The other’s head jerked and he reached out a hand to do something but Dae-Jin placed a hand ontop of it to stop him. ”It’s okay, I won’t hurt you. If I repair you - will you escort me to somewhere safe?” The golem hesitated - seeming surprised that someone meant him no harm, then quietly nodded. He didn’t speak, but it was enough to make Dae-Jin smile.
Over the next few days Dae-Jin scavenged around in the town, taking bits of things he could use to help repair the silent golem, slowly but surely repairing him. The golem always seemed tense, and yet as time wore on he seemed to trust Dae-Jin more and more and not be quite as jumpy. Eventually he had accomplished his goal, and the golem followed him out to the old snake fountain. ”Are you ready to set out?” The golem looked at him for a moment, before finally speaking for the first time. ”Yes.”
The fact that you need to be by his side simultaneously makes him the safest from your rage of anyone - yet it puts him in the most danger.
Icarus craves his presence unlike any other. Affection, praise, the things he had lacked his entire life but deserved. Icarus finds that he consumes these too easily, too greedily, so much so that it’s become an addiction. It’s never quite enough. Now that you’ve had a taste, you can’t ever go back to how you had been. Your throat’s in a vice-grip, and there’s no way to remove it.
You don’t know what love is for sure, but you feel intensity, passion. You want to crush him, destroy him, because he’s dangerous. He can flip you off of your feet with a glance, manipulate your mood with a single fucking word, and you’re certain you would perish without him in your life. You can bare your fangs at him all you like, but you know you can’t truly hurt him. He has become the center of your world.
You would die for him without a second’s notice, easily, without thinking. You would take a bullet or any other deadly blow, as naturally as breathing, just for a chance of proof that you mean something to him. You would kill for him, if he asked, a river of blood would be worth an ounce of praise. Nobody was safe from this, not even yourself.
Another thing you feel is an all consuming fear. You fear the power he has to destroy you without even having to try. Your instincts scream like ghosts that you should run, if you can’t destroy him like you have the others, that you should escape. The thought of being without him is even more frightening than the idea of letting him obliterate everything you are. Living without what he has given you is more than you can handle. You cannot go back to having nothing. To being nothing.
No matter which way you look, there’s absolutely no way out. There’s nothing but destruction. And beyond everything else this fact seethes under your skin.
——
Gritting his teeth together so hard it hurts, Icarus bites back a scream that was guttural and animalistic in nature. He really tightened the noose around his neck this time. His already fragile sense of control snapped in half in the sanctity of his own apartment and before he could reign himself in he lashed out. The mirror cracked and splintered under his fist, glass slicing through flesh and blood coursing over bruised knuckles.
Shattered remnants of the mirror pattered and chimed against the floor like a sharp rain, blood pulsing between fisted fingers but he doesn’t feel the pain. What the fuck am I DOING? How stupid can I be?! You were supposed to need nobody but yourself. Fucking hilarious how you’ve let yourself get tied down, eh?
Swiping everything out of the way and hearing it smash against the wall - Icarus falls heavily on his bed - his seemingly inextinguishable anger slowly methodically turning to a form of despair. Burying himself in his pillows and blankets - his teeh bite his lip until the coppery taste of blood washes over his tongue. His hands fist in the pillow as he grips onto it - the blood from his split skin and the tears that flow like water mixing onto the soft fabric.
Please look at me. I’ll do anything. Lookatmelookatme - don’t leave me behind. Don’t find someone else. I need you. Trembling his inner rage roared defiance. Don’t drag me down! Are you even trying to free yourself?! What happened to your dream? Executioners don’t cry. Icarus can feel the exhaustion sinking in, delicate, ghostly fingers crawling icy chills up his spine. For a few brief moments he feels nothing, a welcome change from the volatile intensity called emotion that has been pulling him back and forth.
He is my life now.
You can never forget: without him you will always be nothing.
Note: Present day text is normal. Memories are italicized.
It has been a long time since he has given the past any thought. It has been even longer before he had felt the urge to do anything he had learned back then. Taking a deep, careful breath after he sits down - his eyes close for a moment. Without looking, his fingers slowly started to swiftly press keys on memory and instinct, a beautiful melody starting to bubble forth from the tips of the savage seraphim’s fingers.
Behind his eyelids a garden bloomed. A phantasm raised by the echo of the melody he was playing, a ghost of his past. His parents were still with him then, holding hands and talking cheerfully about how proud they were of him. In this particular memory there were thousands of delicate wings - they were showing him the newly emerged butterflies of the season. He had still been young then - and he had stood entranced by the array of vibrant fluttering colors - holding out a hand - a scarlet one had landed on the back of his hand. It had been so light he could barely even tell it was there.
Humming lightly under his breath as his fingers continued to play over the keys - Oriade’s eyes remain closed. It was a habit he had garnered with the piano, to allow the music that emanates bring him back to the past - engulf him in nostalgia and remind him of days gone by. No matter how much he had been warped and twisted into the savage thing he was today, there was still a trace of softness remaining.
It didn’t take long for his life to shatter into pieces. One by one, while he hadn’t been able to really predict or do anything about it - his friends started vanishing during the war. Oriade had started struggling to retain a natural smile those days - but the last day he saw his parents - would be the final nail in the coffin. He can still feel the creeping unease crawling up his spine, the feeling he had felt upon returning home that day.
Opening the large, gilt doors of his family home, Oriade had stopped dead when he saw the damage. The place had been shredded, destroyed and decimated. The further into his home he got, the more prevalent the damage became. He didn’t think it would get much worse - but that’s when he found his parents. The once happy, strong couple who had taken him to butterfly gardens and piano recitals looked more like twisted, crumpled up cardboard stands. Like they had barely ever existed.
Swallowing hard, his footsteps seemed to echo gunshot loud in the shocked silence as he approached the mirror that lie just behind them. If only - if only it could have been like a paused security feed, showing him what had happened, who had done this. All it offered was his own reflection, as it was no camera, no magic mirror that could offer guidance. “What should I do now?” He asked in a voice soft and lost. Reaching out his hand to brush against the mirror, the glass split beneath his touch. A crack rent his face, looking back at him, in half. He needed to change who he was. It was a sign.
Oriade had spent that night gathering his things - salvaging what little he could. After that he worked on burying his parents himself, standing in prayer over them until the light of dawn began to steal away the shadows and darkness. Rising once that had happened, he placed a single flower over their graves. This was a parting gift but also an omen - the Oriade that everyone once knew died with them. Such a soft person couldn’t survive in these times.
The harmonious notes of the piano echoed through the empty chapel. It had long since been abandoned, and Oriade suspected that he was the only one who was still aware of it’s presence. While it may be sad that it had been forgotten by the wiles of man and attention of time - Oriade wouldn’t be here if that wasn’t the case. If he came here to reflect - to remember - the last thing he needed was an audience. Eyes opening just a little as his fingers changed rhythm and direction, the melody changed to something still beautiful - but hauntingly ominous.
Memories and feelings played a dance in his mind, flashes of faces, feelings and things that had once been but were no more. Youth, innocence, tragedy, an intense seething under his skin from losing everything but himself. Oriade may have changed, may have had everything taken from him - but, he had never once broken. Breaking would give someone satisfaction - and that was something he refused to hand out like cheap Halloween candy. The war taking his friends - whoever had destroyed his parents - none of it would ever break him.
Pulling his rose blade from the unmoving body of yet another enemy, Oriade’s wings shimmered amber like the embers of a fire that refused to go out. The seraphim was splashed in the blood of others - yet he felt nothing aside from the heat crawling through his veins - calling him to destroy every last one of them - the way they had destroyed what had felt like a near perfect life. The least he could do was inflict ten-fold of the crushing defeat he was dealt back at them. Make them feel what it was like to lose. It wasn’t ever enough, but he grew to like the thrill of satisfaction that fluttered in his veins.
Trigger warning; character death, partial shifting, there’s also swearing because Lacuna’s pissed
So she was in a place like this? He wouldn’t have ordinarily guessed that she would have come somewhere like this, but in hindsight, he shouldn’t have been surprised. He ignored the sensation of feeling watched as he entered the building that seemed shrouded in smoke and incense. The instant the door clicked behind him, a black cat curled around a leg briefly before darting off again across the floor.
Following in the quick paw-steps of the tiny black beast, it wasn’t long until he found her sitting at a table, with the cat having found somewhere or other to hide. Easily slipping into the seat opposite her without much trouble, he turned to see her almost glowing amber eyes starIng at him. Her delicate fingers lowered the cigarette from her lips as she exhaled a plume of smoke and studied him with a quirked brow. ”You’re not the dragon I expected to see in town.”
Lacuna paused, a small smile curving over his lips as he sighed a little. ”Aaurahiel. You went pretty far, didn’t you.” She shrugged at this response, though her lips tugged upwards into a sly smirk. ”The further I get away from that sorry excuse the better. I know you better than this Lacuna. You aren’t here for pleasure, are you?” Lacuna shook his head, before glancing away briefly from those piercing eyes.
”The curse .... isn’t that a little much? Even if you are angry, you’re also punishing those who had nothing to do with any of it. Besides, you picked the wrong one if you want to affect my brother at all, didn’t you?” She hummed under her breath for a moment, before shaking her head. ”Sorry Lacuna, I just don’t agree. You say that now, but I’m certain he can love someone. It just wasn’t me. If you’re really here for the sake of the kids, don’t bother. They’re as good as dead to me too.”
Lacuna’s hands shook under the table, where they were gripping onto the fabric of his pants. ”That’s a little unfair don’t you think? I thought you’d have a little more mercy than that.” She dared to laugh then. ”Mercy? He wrung that out of me himself. When has he ever had mercy for anyone?” Lacuna struggled to keep the smile on his face, though his teeth grit against each other. ”Can you just ... let them free? Please?” She stopped for a moment, before leaning over the table some.
”I’ll cut you a deal, Lacuna. I’ll take it off you and then you can escape him too. You can live your own life, just like I am.” Lacuna’s pulse pounded in his ears, his golden eyes suddenly too bright as he stared at her suddenly. Sharpened canine teeth showed almost like a baring of fangs as he slammed trembling hands on the table. ”How ... how dare you, you double-crossing bitch! You were fucking lucky he ever even noticed your pathetic fucking existence!” Lacuna’s voice was guttural and savage, gone was any pretense of the charismatic person she had thought she’d known. She backed up suddenly as the table splintered beneath his pressure, fingers that were more like claws digging down into it.
She tried to back away and run and that was when Lacuna found his vision shaking, blacking out at the edges. Eventually, Lacuna became aware at a cold presence against his cheek. Blinking his eyes and shaking his head as he sat up, he realized he had ended up sprawled against the floor which was dusted in shattered ice. Pressing the back of one hand against his head which pulsed in a headache, he glanced around the area, realizing that he had likely blacked out but had managed to not lose himself completely.
He could remember claws and - jolting he looked around him. Blood was everywhere. There was a partially shattered table, and over there was ... her. Picking himself up to his feet, movement caught his eye as the black cat that had lead him to her scooted past him and back towards the entrance of the building. He had to get out of here before someone noticed. Now that she was gone ... well. He wouldn’t tell what happened here to anyone. They didn’t need to know.
”Nova why don’t you come with me for a few days? You’re overworking yourself and your mentor said that you need a breather.” Astreia’s smile was kind as she put a hand on his shoulder and for a moment, Nova almost automatically refused because he doesn’t need a break. He is doing perfectly fine on his own. Something about her smile, though, told him that refusal wouldn’t be taken well.
Taking a deep breath and sighing along with a nod of his head, Nova agreed. ”Okay. Just for a little bit.” With that, Nova found himself in a blur of packing a travel bag and being lead off towards his coworker’s house. The place was ... comfier than he had imagined where she might have lived. Maybe it was due to not living alone? Her brother seemed to live with her as well.
Setting his bag down in the guest bedroom, he looked over the cushy looking bed and sighed for a moment, hands reaching behind his head to tug his hair free of where he had it up. The pale strands tickled against his neck as they were released and the door cracked open just a little. A silver flash of locks and a pair of intense eyes heralded Astreia’s brother as he checked up on the head medic. ”Sister says feel free to stay as long as you need. If you need to talk we’ll be here. We’ll feed you too, so don’t worry too much.” The face retreated and the door was pushed closed again.
Nova glanced back towards the bed, before making his way to it and laying down. Closing his eyes for a moment - he allowed himself to sink into his thoughts. While not particularly close to the Luna siblings - they seemed worried about him. Was this just because of his mentor, or were there other things at play here? Rolling over onto his side and opening his eyes to stare at the wall- he wondered. How and why were they worried?
Some hours later - Astreia opened the door to mention that there was food made - but paused when she noticed that Nova had fallen asleep. She would set aside a portion for later - if he awoke and found himself hungry. She didn’t particularly know the head medic’s eating habits after all. He could simply grab it from the refrigerator if he wanted it.
—-
Moonlight filtered through the window and Nova blinked. The pale breath of the moon pooled on his pillow and around his face, breaking up slightly as his fingers moved as if to grasp it. Pushing himself up to a seated position, he stared out the window with an only partially awake expression. The world looked peaceful, as it should.
Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, his feet move with carpet as he gets up. He hadn’t intended to fall asleep while thinking back on things - but he had probably needed it. Padding down the hallway and towards the porch, the hum of the kitchen appliances barely registered as he flipped the lock and opened the door to cold, fresh air.
Leaving the door cracked open a little, Nova leaned his arms on the porch railing and looked over the silver-washed landscape. The full moon hung silently in the velvety darkness of the sky, casting it’s ashen hues over everything it touched. Taking in a deep breath, and releasing it slowly, Nova started to feel himself naturally relax.
He turned his head at the sound of a plank creaking to see Heitiare stepping out the door. Heitiare’s cold silver hair looked almost like it matched the moonlight - he looked almost like a ghost with that pale complexion that glowed in the light. ”You okay?” Heitiare’s voice was deep as those sharp eyes glanced at him, and Nova nodded. ”It just gets hard when I think about him sometimes.” Heitiare put a hand on his shoulder.
”One day you’ll move on. It’ll get better.” Nova swallowed hard, fighting back the urge to curl in on himself like a miserable child. Moving on when it’s someone you love ... is that even possible? Nova’s eyes are distant for a moment, doubting that it’s ever going to be so easy. ”Also - heads up - Astreia plans on dragging you to the fair tomorrow. Says you need a dose of something upbeat for once.” Retracting his hand, Heitiare turns to go, but pauses when Nova turns to face him.
”Do you really think I can move on?” Heitiare stills as his hand came to rest on the wood of the door. Turning his head to regard Nova for a moment - he nods. ”I never said it would be easy, but I do. If things get hard - just lean on us a little, okay? You’re not Atlas - the world isn’t on your shoulders.”
Time stops. Breath catches in your throat. Trembling hands curl into fists - you screwed up. You’re not infallible - no matter how much you pretend to be. You fuck up - a lot actually. It was a fatal mistake to ever believe in someone like that. You were young then - but you’ve been trying to force fingers underneath that noose around your neck. Your feet are on the ground - but that’s all the merit you can give yourself. You can still be yanked back by the throat.
Closing your eyes - your senses shiver and quake as you sink into memories. A smirk curved like a dagger and haunting golden eyes that glowed in the dark. An ever-changing name that swirled just out of reach of your fingertips like smoke that couldn’t be contained. What would you do to escape him? What have you already done to save yourself? What have you done, Caligo?
When you were sixteen you sold your parents out from under their own noses. You didn’t really understand the consequences of that action, not entirely. In doing so, that noose formed. Somehow you belonged to him now, legally, by name. He wasn’t going to let you forget it, either. You had what many wanted, your family was well-off and wanted for nothing. Now you had only what you earned.
When you were nineteen, you started collecting information on anyone he asked. You worked yourself to the limits - strained yourself to build up the biggest network you could. Trustworthy information flow and conflicts weren’t easy to come by - but you made it work. If you hadn’t, well, you would have outlived your usefulness. If you lost your usefulness ... well, you’ve seen what happens. They’re never seen again.
You lose count of how old you are - but you’re neck deep in expectations. You’ve witnessed things you don’t want to. You’ve done things that you would have condemned others for. You’ve sold out friends - sold out families - caused the destruction of many a person you can’t really say deserved it. But if it comes down to you or them - it’s always been you. Survival of the fittest, is what many would say.
Your last mission was to locate and bring back an assassin that fell through the cracks. It was easier to find him than you thought - even easier to push and pull at his control - he would have been easy to bring back - even if he fought tooth and nail. But something in you had changed. You don’t want him to meet your keeper - not because of some debt accrued by his parents. It was unfair - he would suffer for the misgivings of someone else. You know it’d mean your own head - and he’d come looking for you. That it would mean both of you would suffer. Maybe this is the first time you started to care about someone other than yourself. Or maybe it was that you’ve made connections that can affect you.
Breathing out a low sigh that shakes you to your bones, you feel tired through the relief. It’s over. He’d found you, but. He was gone. You are free. The first thing you want to do is...
As the youthful wolf bounced along her way within TRS HQ, a noise caused her to turn her head. She stopped dead, her silver eyes meeting forest green ones. ”You look familiar. C’mere a moment.” Tilting her head, curious of who he could possibly be, the wolf shifter stepped closer, peering in at the scruffy looking small bakeneko. The green eyes studying her narrowed, eventually a sneer forming over his mouth as he scoffed. ”I know who you are.”
Freezing at the sudden malice in his tone, Holly almost regretted her question as it left her lips. ”You...know me..?” The scruffy cat leaned his back against the wall, his face sinking into his raggedy scarf though it did nothing to hide the sinister smirk twisting up a face that had been blank moments before. ”Yup. You’re the Dandelion bitch. The one that got away. You should have died with your parents and done us all a favor.” Recoiling, Holly’s shock was apparent.
Her teeth grit together, her form frozen as she reeled from the intake of information. The cat lifted a hand, inspecting his fingernails almost damningly casually as he continued to speak. ”Looks like all you dumb dogs are the same. Loyal to these so-called “heroes” until they just let you die, huh? That’s all dogs are really good for, sending them to attack your enemies until they become useless and you put ‘em down.” Holly shook as she took a few steps back, her once innocent curiosity a mix of anger and sadness.
Not only was he attacking her family, who she had searched high and low for, he was insulting her, and everyone she looked up to. Everyone she had met here at the TRS, there was just no way that they were the bad ones. Her teeth started to cut down into her lip, choking back a sob as her eyes burned.
The horror had the young wolf in a vice-grip, never truly feeling utter revulsion for another person before this moment. The cat casually glanced over at her, before flicking his fingers in a snap, letting his hand drop back down. ”Oh shoot. You don’t have a pack to cry to, do you? Tsk tsk. Might wanna go before they put you in the kennel.”
Trembling, Holly turned and ran before he could get the satisfaction of seeing her cry. Not only had she had everything she cared about torn down without a second care, he had just completely and utterly dismissed her as if she were irrelevant and unimportant. She found herself running without direction, tears burning tracks down her face. She didn’t care where she ended up, just that she wanted to be away from here.
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The skin is created by Wolf of Adoxography and Gangnam Style. The thread and conversation remodels are by Kagney. The Strange Reality board list, Heal My Soul info center, I Remember Now mini profile and Electric Requiem profile remodel is made by Pharoah Leap. The Who's That Member member list remodel was made by Tictactoe. The Cbox.ws Shoutbox remodel was made by Trinity Blair. All templates used for claims, information sheets, applications, etc are credited to their owners; credits for these can be found in the threads the templates are use on. Images that are used on The Duality of Man are credited to their owners, however, they have been edited by Zac with a few being edited by Chibi Magician. The plot, rules and various other information pieces for The Duality of Man are written by Chibi Magician with the assistence of her co-admins, Finnegan and Dremulf, alongside other unlisted people who were kind enough to give their input. The TRS, AP and face claim were all created by Fleur for specifically the use of TDOM. All plugins used on The Duality of Man are credited to their owners. The templates my members use are credited to their maker, if you find a template that belongs to you, but is uncredited, please speak to Chibi Magician or the member themself. Characters created on The Duality of Man are credited to their owners and should not be used elsewhere without the creator's permission.
Special thanks for the members of TDOM who make suggestions to help make this site better. Even though we can not accept all suggestions, we immensely appreciate it. Thus, we give credit to any additions that you thought of and were later implimented by the staff, because we are glad you give us these excellent ideas.
