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[text/action] (backdated to yesterday afternoon)
Not the best time to grab anyone's attention, but hell, this isn't going anywhere once I put it up.
Those of you who were asking for an update on ways to keep track of the names that show up on here? Here's one.
[Attached is a small script - when executed, it prompts for a search string, then runs in the background until manually stopped, periodically checking each name on the network and throwing out a notification similar to an ordinary network reply if any of them match. The code itself is heavily obfuscated, and the few comments it does contain appear to be context-free excerpts from something like an encyclopaedia article on Paris, but a reasonably tech-savvy inspection will uncover nothing more nefarious than the programmer's apparent lack of patience for error handling; it's not a complicated program in the slightest.]
I know one or two of you thought the converse would be about as useful. I'm working on it. But like before, if someone else happens to get there first, more power to you. This isn't a competition, it's just something a few people expressed an interest in.
Obviously, if any problems crop up with tihjssssssssssdfdafssssfb7
[action, Hold library]
[Whether or not anyone hears the soft thump of Ed's face hitting the tablet depends on how busy the library currently is with most people distracted by the age shenanigans - and anyway, it's muffled by the sleeves of his brown coat, which looks somewhat bulkier on him than it did a second ago. Still, that's... quite a lot of blood. It's quickly pooling on the table, inches away from the programming and computer science textbooks he had open in front of him. Some of it has already started dripping onto the floor. Someone with a keen eye might notice the dark patch where it's beginning to stain the back of his coat, too.
Won't someone at least think of the books?]
[ooc: text replies will be ICly delayed until this part of the plot is over! And multiple characters intervening for the action part are A-OK, if you don't mind handwaving that sort of thing. ♥]
Those of you who were asking for an update on ways to keep track of the names that show up on here? Here's one.
[Attached is a small script - when executed, it prompts for a search string, then runs in the background until manually stopped, periodically checking each name on the network and throwing out a notification similar to an ordinary network reply if any of them match. The code itself is heavily obfuscated, and the few comments it does contain appear to be context-free excerpts from something like an encyclopaedia article on Paris, but a reasonably tech-savvy inspection will uncover nothing more nefarious than the programmer's apparent lack of patience for error handling; it's not a complicated program in the slightest.]
I know one or two of you thought the converse would be about as useful. I'm working on it. But like before, if someone else happens to get there first, more power to you. This isn't a competition, it's just something a few people expressed an interest in.
Obviously, if any problems crop up with tihjssssssssssdfdafssssfb7
[action, Hold library]
[Whether or not anyone hears the soft thump of Ed's face hitting the tablet depends on how busy the library currently is with most people distracted by the age shenanigans - and anyway, it's muffled by the sleeves of his brown coat, which looks somewhat bulkier on him than it did a second ago. Still, that's... quite a lot of blood. It's quickly pooling on the table, inches away from the programming and computer science textbooks he had open in front of him. Some of it has already started dripping onto the floor. Someone with a keen eye might notice the dark patch where it's beginning to stain the back of his coat, too.
Won't someone at least think of the books?]
[ooc: text replies will be ICly delayed until this part of the plot is over! And multiple characters intervening for the action part are A-OK, if you don't mind handwaving that sort of thing. ♥]
no subject
[ There were normal citizens in there. Citizens who weren't used to seeing people with stab wounds appear in the middle of their library.
He sighs, and runs a hand through his hair. ]
I'm not askin' for an explanation, but at least let me fix that [ nodding towards the wound ] up before you run off.
fuck yeah originally intended journal
...What did you do to it? [He asks the question hesitantly. Under the circumstances, he'd think where and how would be more pressing questions; not that he's an expert, but he's fairly sure stabbing someone to death doesn't normally cause them to wake up alive in the middle of some city far, far away from Central. So why don't they seem more pressing to him? And... why is he so sure this isn't Central?
On impulse, he grabs his own right glove and tugs at it. It comes away more easily than he was expecting. The hand underneath is definitely the one he remembers, though - that inelegant replacement he fused to the end of his arm after losing a chunk of it, fingers and palm slightly out of proportion, dull grey like a factory floor. No answers there.]
So is this the other side, or... [This time the look he gives Snow is more urgent than hostile.] Listen, are you an alchemist? And what's this place called? It's important.
now even shorter huh
Long story short, it's magic. I'm a l'Cie. [ He shrugs. ] That probably doesn't mean anything to you, but I'm definitely not an alchemist.
[ It's not the first time he's dealt with differences between worlds, and it won't be the last, so the situation is easy to brush off. Better to focus on the wound in front of him instead. ]
This place is called Exsilium. [ Despite everything over the last few days, he's still not quite used to this part. He remembered his time here, so why not everyone else? ] Don't worry if you've got somewhere else to be, kiddo. They'll send you back at the exact time you left. [ Snow himself can vouch for that. ]
y e p
I see... So it's not the same place as last time. [He hangs his head, staring down at his hands like he's in a daze.] Yeah, it wouldn't be that simple, would it? Seeing as apparently nothing is.
[He seems like he's morosely settling down, letting Snow get on with it - but then, a minute later, he freezes again.]
Wait. Last time...!
[Suddenly, determinedly, grimacing through the lingering pain, he tries to scramble back to his feet.]
Look, I... Whatever the hell you're doing, I appreciate it, okay? I'm serious. But - do me a favour, and stop. Just stop.
no subject
Whatever you say. [ He's no stranger to the stubborn routine, after all. ] Just take it easy, okay? Don't go gettin' stabbed again.
[ SOMETIMES HE HAS GOOD ADVICE ]
no subject
[Cryptic. Then again, he really isn't saying any of that to Snow.
The next part is different, though - once he's pulled himself upright, he cranes his neck over his shoulder to look Snow in the eye.] I owe you one, old man. I mean it. There's just... someone I need to take care of first.
[With that, he takes a few still slightly unsteady steps out into the pouring rain and hesitates, glancing around at the unfamiliar streets. Does he know where he's going? Hell no. All he knows is that he won't catch up with Al by standing around forever.
He breaks into a run.]