diademlogs | OPEN💠stand tall, my friend

[ Though each diffusion zone can be it's own unique little world, offering a seemingly endless number of possibilities, G'raha doesn't think he's seen one quite so beautiful. The rock itself is imbued with a bioluminescence that the plant-life seems to share, giving color to a world stuck in a seemingly dim overcast. The purple hues make him think a bit of Lakeland, back on the First. How long it's been...

But the sound of footsteps quickly shakes him out of it. Whether he reunites with traveling company or meets a new face, G'raha's ears perk up as he glances over his shoulder. ]

Apologies, I was malms away for a moment.

[ He stands, turning to reveal a crystal practically humming with energy. Anyone with good hearing or a magical affinity can likely sense it. It gleams in the same light blues and purples as the rest of the world. ]

Can you hear it too?

Edited 2026-02-07 02:11 (UTC)

( cloud really was brought here by the curiosity in the colors, the purple hues quite unusual from the usual drab that comes with the rainfall they've been having the past few weeks. he isn't sure what he expects to find, but it's not necessarily a man with — cat ears. )

Uh.

( what the hell are 'malms'?

not to mention, that's a pretty crystal he carries, looking oddly familiar to one he's seen before...? the question, too, makes him feel a little at a loss, sounding a lot like something aerith would say, about the flowers, to tease him; something barret would say, about the planet, to cloud's annoyance. )

You sure you're not hurt?

[ Hurt? How kind of him. Clearly the sort of man to travels about to check on others? An adventurer, something about him seems the sort. ~~Must be that protag swag.~~ G'raha shakes his head with a light smile. ]

I am hale and whole, I assure you. But thank you for the concern.

[ He shifts his attention back to the crystal. When he loosens his grip, it seems to float on it's own accord just a few centimeters above his palm. ]

They resonate with an aether all their own.

( and yet, despite the assurances, cloud finds himself remaining near the man with the cat ears and tail (all sorts of people here...), if only because the new environs makes him hesitant about traveling forth—should the man know about what to expect of this place better than himself.

it's the crystal that floats on its own above his palm that makes cloud pause proper, walking to the side and next to him, curiously glancing at it. )

Aether?

( he's clearly unfamiliar. )

[ Of course Ardbert would have no choice but to stop at a diffusion zone such as this, thanks to both his natural wanderlust and curiosity, as well as the fact that it also reminds him of Lakeland.

Given that the chances he'll ever see his home of Norvrandt again are close to nil, when he spots a zone that reminds him of it even a little bit, he has to stop. So he parks without much fanfare, axe at his back as he starts to wander the area.

He's half-expecting there to be local wildlife that might make his time here a bit more eventful, not that it would bother him. Instead, he finds a familiar Miqo'te. ]

G'raha?

[ Seeing the soft glow of crystals nearby, it's truly no surprise to find the Exarch here.

In fact, it makes it feel even more as if they're back on the First, though Ardbert wouldn't have had the luxury of being able to talk to G'raha, were that the case. ]

That's alright. This is quite the place, isn't it?

[ He had hoped that a few samples from this last diffusion zone might survive. Well-aware that not everything can be pilfered from each zone—some things literally disappearing into thin air as soon as you leave—he felt a fair bit of hope when the samples from this latest excursion seem to be doing well.

Seem to.

It isn't even an hour out that it begins. The intent is, of course, to return to the city before dinner. The twins are always working hard and the least he can do is try to ensure they have something ready and warm to eat when they do eventually wander back to their motel room. (It may not always be fresh and homemade, but it's something. They can only handle so many panted G-Tribe Sandwiches.) Yet as he's thinking about what he can put together in a pinch, he feels it—

—a sharp pain in his right arm, like someone quickly digging a hot knife solidly through from one end and through. G'raha let's out a strangled yelp, jerking the wheel of his van wildly to the side. It's white hot—blinding. And so wholly consuming that he doesn't see the dip in the road. The van lurches to the side, toppling over onto the dusty crevice roadside. ]

[ Shadowheart is still a very bad driver, and she's taken to going slow because it requires her moving the stick less, and she is smart enough not to want to crash and die. People used to cars might underestimate the danger they are, but she does not. They are death machines, as far as she's concerned. She has gotten good enough to slowly get around to diffusion zones solely to scavenge. That is not new to her and her companions, they often pick up items to sell lately, so she has experience.

She managed to get a few chairs from the wedding that have yet to disappear, and furniture she feels like well fetch her a bit of coin. Everything else didn't make it, but she'll take it. She's on her way back when she is in the right place at the right time to watch a van topple over. See, death machine. Shadowheart frowns and gives it some consideration before pulling over. She might as well see if the driver survived or needs help. She's not that heartless. (She was, once.)

She has a knife strapped to her belt though, just in case of trouble. She never lets her guard down. It's why she's cautious as she approaches the van, but she's graceful as she uses her arms to pull up on the side of the car in the air, looking inside.]

Hello. Are you alive in there?

[ The thing is, if they're not, they might have items she can take inside, so that's always an option.]

[ His ears are ringing and his vision is blurred. G'raha blinks, trying to clear his senses. The van had fallen to the opposite side, leaving him hanging from his seat belt, half-dangling over the passenger seat. There's a pain in his head, likely from impact. Fresh blood on the steering wheel. He can smell it a bit, but it's hazy.

Wicked White...

What had happened? He lost control when his hand had suddenly hurt like something terrible.

Then he hears a voice. Not one he immediately recognizes, but it gives him a greater sense of urgency. G'raha groans and calls out, albeit not as strong as he would like. ]

Y-Yes...!

[ He looks out the driver's side window at an unfamiliar woman. ]

Yes, I'm fine.

[ Lies?? But if she's here, then clearly he wasn't the only one on the road when he spun out. ]

—is anyone else hurt?

[ The man is hanging over the opposite side, and it is a reminder that this seatbelt they told her about is very necessary. It seems to have cushioned him or kept him from falling down when it crashed. Shadowheart can't see the extent of his injuries from here, but he is able to speak and answer questions, so that is a good sign.]

No, I witnessed it from a distance, you must have jerked the wheel at the wrong spot.

[ This is why Shadowheart drives on roads at probably too slow a pace. She thinks it likely she would jerk the wheel if she was going too fast and lead to trouble. Being cautious in these situations has kept her alive after hours of driving these terrible machines. She pulls herself up to rest her legs on the side of the door that is now the top of it. She sees some blood.]

Are you punctured by anything? Is anything broken? We'll need to know that before getting you out.

[ It means she will have to go inside to help him and heal them first, rather than drag him out and do it then. It's different levels of concern. Shadowheart is an expert healer so he's in good hands, but that doesn't mean she wants the added concern of him bleeding out before she can pull him to safety.

It's not very easy to see from this angle, so she creates a ball of fire in her hand, leaning it down so they both can get a clearer view of the damage or of how he's currently being dangled in his seat.]

[ It feels quite silly to be here, but...he isn't sure where else to go.

Well, no, that's a lie—G'raha knows the people he ought to be going to for this, but he also knows how objectively horrifying it may be to them. And since he isn't on death's door, he doesn't want to bother the hospital staff. They have their hands full already and seem to be in the habit of only addressing those in most dire circumstances.

But what can a relatively unknown doctor do about this?

G'raha stands in front of Olga's Urgent Care and looks down at his hand. It's wrapped carefully in layers of linen. There are no stains, no clear signs of injury or blood from the outside, but as he slowly unwraps his thumb, the clear shimmering of light blue crystal comes through where there should be skin. ]

Wicked White...

[ G'raha says under his breath. Then he sighs, stepping forward and looking up at the same time to rather inexpertly bump into someone heading for the same clinic door, or maybe just in the vicinity. He holds up both hands in slight alarm, only to wave them in apologies. ]

—Ah! Excuse me.

[ Given all that's happened recently, G'raha has spent less time than usual out exploring the Fringes, as is usually his wont. Is he learning not to touch something he finds curious? Not exactly. But he does feel he needs to get a better handle on this returning...condition before venturing wildly forth.

So if he is going to be spending more time in Panorama, he should make it productive for those who rely on him as well. As such, G'raha has taken up one of the temporary positions as a candygram deliverer. the uniform could do with a little help, but...at least it matches his hair?

There is a knock at your door, wherever you are staying. If you open it, you will find a young man with cat ears and a bit of blue crystal creeping up the side of his face, though he tries to conceal most of it with a turtleneck and jacket. He clears is throat and offers one of the following... ]

"I just can’t Reese-ist you!"

[ or ]

"I knew you were truffle when you walked in."

[ or ]

"You really mint a lot to me."

[ And offers the corresponding brand-named candy along with it. Does he look ashamed? A little. But please don't leave him a horrible review on DoorDash. ]

[ God knows, of all the short straws he's drawn in life, this hall of rooms getting candygrams at their doors all day has been one of the worst. Fucking singing drifting through the paper thin walls, it's just one more reason on top of several that he's been drinking for the past three hours.

So when the knock comes to his door, he's tempted not to open. Thing is, he can smell who's on the other side, and somehow, the idea of telling the kitty cat to go fuck himself feels like, well.

Like kicking a kitten.

He sighs and wrenches the door open. Really? The bottle sloshes as he tips it back and reaches out to take the delivery, unfolding the piece of paper wrapped around the piece of candy. He squints at the scribbled drawing in crayon and the tail end of a poem that reads—

Never mind. He's not reading that. (Every day, he regrets having met Wade Wilson.)

He crumples the note and tosses it over his shoulder. His gaze roams over the glittery hearts. Logan gives one a little flick, watching it wobble. ] Studying bottomless pits not paying the bills, huh?

[ G'raha is on his best behavior as he waits for the door to open. This may be a silly job, but it's his silly job at the moment and he wouldn't go to besmirch is temporary employer. Even if his pride is on the line.

His pride...is dangling dangerously over the line above the canyon of shame. But he's been more cringe than this.

But G'raha isn't expecting—maybe was hoping he wouldn't see someone he's actually familiar with. Red eyes go wide as he watches Wolverine look extremely unimpressed with said candygram and toss it to the side. Ah... ]

Well—

[ He his ears droop a bit as the hearts bobble back and forth above his head. ]

—not often, no.

[ Which is probably not surprising. ]

Though this is a first for me. I, um—don't suppose you want the candy that comes along with it?

[ His shoulder hits the door frame, bottle hanging at his side. In fairness, he can't begrudge a guy for making money. Not like you can be choosy about jobs around here. ] I'll pass.

[ Enjoy the free candy. Pretty sure Wilson sent it over just to annoy the hell out of him, which he'll admit, it's working. Also, he can feel himself sobering up just looking at the man's big sad eyes and drooping ears. His head cocks, gaze travelling up the...what is that. A scar? That wasn't there last time they spoke. He'd have noticed.

He peers closer, gesturing to his own neck. ]

What's going on there?

[ okay.

tifa has seen a lot of weird things since coming here (and even before that), but somehow the sight of this is still enough to make her pause long enough before saying anything to make it slightly awkward. but then she realizes that's rude, and she'll hastily reply. ]

Oh. A pun, haha.

[ ...

she clears her throat. ]

I'm sorry, but I think you might have the wrong address.

[ Though he's made it a point to collect (read: hoard) a plethora of various books, tomes, and magazines over his months in this world, his collection is notably bereft of any insight on his current ailment. But considering that this world seems to be some sort of crux or focal point, a joining of many stars, he doesn't give up hope that some literature might yet be available.

So he goes from bookshop to bookshop in Panorama. You may see him over the course of a week stopping at each. Not all seem to have a semblance of organization, which means that G'raha might sometimes spend hours scouring the shelves for something that might help.

He has no problem sitting on the floor with a hood pulled up over his head, though a long red tail hangs out visibly from underneath his hoodie. It twitches every now and then as he comes across something interesting. But more notably, while his right arm is partially bandage, bits of crystal peek out from between the wrappings, catching any of the ambient light in the shop. It's held very stiffly, almost like a mannequin.

You may be trying to walk through the narrow aisles... ]

Oh, pardon me.

[ And when he notices, he will quickly try to shove the collection he's created aside to allow more space.

Or you may find him dozing off against the wall of books, head bobbing slightly with each breath. From this angle, it's clear to see that it isn't just his arm, but that crystal has begun to snake its way up along his neck and one side of his face. ]

[ It doesn't take Jasnah long to look for books — though shopping for them remains a novel indignity. Even before she took the throne, even while she traveled Roshar in pursuit of her research, library doors and private collections had simply opened for the then-Princess of Alethkar. Her own library's curation was delegated. Jasnah would write out a list of titles, hand it to a Master-Servant, and within days her shelves would be quietly and efficiently replenished.

And never, never had she been required to worry about paying for any of it. Storms.

So now she browses with care. Counts the joolies left in her pocket and weighs which subjects are worth the diminishment of her already meager budget. She reads what she can without buying. After all, she's observed at least one other customer doing precisely the same just yesterday. The redhead with the bandaged right hand.

She's encountered him more than once, now — bouncing between similar shops, appearing and reappearing over the same span of days. They never speak. Still, she's come to accept that their paths will cross at least once daily, provided she strays anywhere near a bookstore.

That quiet détente may end today. Because he's leaned against the bottom shelf in a section she's interested in. Jasnah crouches, steadying herself against the stacks with one gloved hand (her left) as she studies the sleeping boy.

Boy? He looks young. But he's not a child. Perhaps young man is more precise.

Only then does she notice the tail. Huh. And more curious still: the pattern of crystal creeping up the side of his neck. Well. Fascinating.

She'd intended to reach for a tome inconveniently close to his elbow. Instead, she finds she's far more interested in him.

Coolly, she clears her throat. ]

[ It wouldn't be the first time he's been caught "sleeping in the job", as it were. Since his return to this particular body, he's still found some need of adjustment between the stamina he could once pull from the Crystal Tower to supplement his own and his true mortal limitations. And it isn't as if students from Sharlayan are known for healthy sleeping habits, to begin with. An entire city-state built and run by academics is bound to encourage a few things it ought not.

But as it stands—or sits, rather—is that G'raha is well and truly burning the candle at both ends. The longer the crystal stays on his person, the more he fears this is a new permanent feature. And the last time—...well, the last time may be the only truly unique way to escape a fully crystalline fate.

He doubts he will see such opportunities again.

But G'raha Tia isn't a deep sleeper. As soon as he hears the very human sound, he all but bolts up. His tail thwacking back against the shelf, he blinks and looks around a little disoriented for a moment, until he suddenly remembers where (and more importantly, when) he is. ]

I—

[ And there's a woman—a rather lovely one, at that—standing in front him. ]

—my apologies, I didn't mean to impose any longer than I already have. [ He scrambles with the two open books on his lap, notably more with his fully mobile left-hand, then pauses as he reassess. ] ...You aren't an employee, are you?

[ Jasnah doesn't rush to confirm or deny anything. She doesn't rush the careful cataloging of his response — asleep to alert, the surprising thump of the tail, the way he looks a little lost before the stranger's focus settles in earnest. Her attention drops only once — eyeing the books, as if she could discern their subjects at a glance. ]

No. [ Her answer is simple. ] Not an employee. Merely someone hoping to...

[ Crouched across from him, she raises her right hand and points at a series of book spines just behind his elbow. ]

Browse.

[ The books aren't in the best of states, having been worn over the years. One appears to be mostly long blocks of an older type that are hard to discern. The other, however, sits open to diagrams of orthorhombic structures and lattice patterns within crystals.

He pauses almost comically, hanging on her carefully placed words as his gaze follows the line of her finger.

Oh. Of course. ]

Ah, yes.

[ G'raha does feel a little less flustered now that he doesn't believe he's about to kicked out for, you know, sleeping in someone's shop. But he does still shuffle awkwardly to the side while getting onto his knees in the same motion. His right hand stays in the same position, using the pressure of his arm to hold the books against his chest as he scoots.

There are more apologies hanging on the tip of his tongue, but he holds back in lieu of a question. ]

You wouldn't happen to be a geologist, would you?

[ Since that is what at least one row of the books is focused on. The sections in this shop are present, if loosely kept. ]

[ Her attention tracks what he does (or doesn't do) with his right arm. Although the causes-and-effects surely are different, given the presence of his bandages, she can't help but compare it to how her own left arm hangs. Not useless, but unused. Even now, she seems to manage as best as she can with only her right hand -- spreading her fingers wide enough to capture three spines at once and carefully easing the books out of their place.

And then he asks her whether she's a geologist and her attention cuts back up to his face. Despite herself, Jasnah sorta-half chuckles. Dry and without any real humour. ]

I'm afraid not.

[ She sounds apologetic. It's easy enough to assume the question might stem from his...crystalline affliction. At least she assumes it's an affliction, given the lack of mobility in his arm.

(And deep in the recesses of her thoughts and experience, she's back at the Battle of Thaylen Field. Amaram, her father's once-ally, taken over by amethyst. Nothing of value was lost with the death of that man. And yet...)

Jasnah tips back on her heels now that she has her target reading tucked under an arm. ]

But I was looking to learn more about what the literature has to say on gemstones. If they're the same varieties as back home. Why -- are you looking for a geologist?

[ A touch nosy, maybe. ]

[ A fool's hope, mayhaps, but hope has not abandoned him even after all these centuries. And given that no one has really ended up here of their own volition, he does feel a little more comfortable relying on the kindness of strangers than one might otherwise when presented with a sudden...change.

(Though the fact that this "change" is more or less a regression on his part does not escape him. G'raha doesn't want to think about that way. He simply cannot.)

Her own movements are so well-practiced, G'raha doesn't note any idiosyncrasies. Though that she is here to learn more about gemstones does mark his ears perk up against the fabric of his hood.

He straightens a bit as he closes the book he has open, sliding it over onto the pile he already created. ]

I am...in a sense. Or someone with an interest in geological phenomenon.

[ He supposes there's no sense in hiding it as he looks down at his poorly concealed hand, but holds it against his chest. ]

But I can say with some confidence you'll find materials that remind you of your home and others that seem almost unimaginable. If I may ask, are there certain stones you're hoping to find?

[ Geological phenomenon. To her, the phrase sounds distancing — and she can't help but flick her attention to his arm once more. Under other circumstances, she might have offered to try and soulcast the crystalline growths away. If only to learn more about them. She'd always been adept with that particular essence. But without Stormlight, and without Ivory, she can't access anything so impressive.

Jasnah breathes out through her nose, offering a brief shake of her head. ]

I'm more interested in learning what stones we have in common. [ A nod to his bandaged arm, his neck. ] Is that zircon?

[ G'raha raises his brows, his gaze flicking back down to his arm. He tries to flex the fingers and one shakes a bit, but if he can move them further he doesn't push it. When he looks back up to catch her gaze, he looks a tad hopeful.

She knows something and even if it amounts to nothing, it's at least one avenue he can rule out. ]

I don't believe so. Though it does have a resemblance, doesn't it?

[ There's a pause before he extends the arm outward. As he turns it slightly, the gem-like surface reflects the fluorescent lighting in the store, shimmering in the way of something freshly cut. ]

Unless you are aware of some properties of zircon that I am not. You haven't seen it grow on anything alive before, have you?

[ Jasnah determines — quickly, pragmatically — that it would not serve her to explain she has once turned a man to zircon. Although, it's impossible to say that it had grown on him. Rather, she had reached into the Cognitive Realm and commanded the very axi of his flesh to change. For what it's worth, the man in question had committed offenses far graver than obstructing her access to a shelf of books. Still, context rarely improves such stories.

So she offers something safer. ]

We associate it with tallow. [ She says evenly, speaking of zircon. ] And with oil more broadly. With wisdom and with care.

[ A small pause. She sets her books carefully upon the floor. Her gloved hand remains still, but her bare one extends toward the crystalline growths, uncertain whether he'll permit contact. ]

But I have seen amethyst grow on a person — only at a distance.

[ As much as Emet-Selch would rather not think of G’raha Tia if he can help it, especially after the debacle on the train, they are still connected. He feels it every now and then, a twinge of emotion that is not his own, and is far too distant to be from Sunday. There is only one other option that he is aware of.

Perhaps he should be more concerned than he is when more than distant ripples make their way through. Distress and uncertainty appear with alarming frequency. Aches and pains that settle into his skin as if they were his own. Something is happening, and the more Emet-Selch attempts to ignore it, the more that troublesome bond tugs him to find out. He knows better than to let the call go unanswered, as much as he would like to.

It isn’t uncommon to find Emet-Selch in a bookstore, meandering through the stacks and perusing the shelves. He moves through this one with purpose, drawn as if on a rail to the source of his woes, only to find him slumped against a shelf, hood drawn up, dozing. All things he notices and quickly casts aside, because the state of the man’s aether quickly seizes his attention. It writhes like an angry storm, corrupted and strange in patches, frozen in others, breaking apart as if made of brittle stone. His brow pinches, footsteps slowing as he approaches. He can feel G’raha’s aches more keenly this close, and catching a bit of crystal under that hood is enough to tell him something of what has been going on. ]

Seven hells.

[ Muttered mostly to himself. He nudges G’raha with the toe of his boot. Wake up, catboy. ]

[ There are just a few people G'raha Tia would prefer if he never ran into during his travels around Panorama and beyond, and Emet-Selch was always at the top of that list.

Was? Is? Frankly, he hasn't bothered to reconsider after the confusion swirl of emotions after that very strange train ride. From what he understands, every passenger experienced something off putting, albeit in varying degrees of distress. But what bothers G'raha is that he hadn't been bothered in that reality. It felt so painfully normal. Befriending Emet-Selch just. Fit.

Well, thankfully the horror of having his body taken over by crystal again has taken precedent as far as existential crises go! And sleep has been difficult to find, partially because of the discomfort and partially because he simply keeps trying to spend all his time finding a way out. But he's never been a heavy sleeper, so when he's nudged, G'raha wakes up almost instantly. ]

Wh—?

[ His eyes blink open rapidly, looking about and expecting to see the end of his bed and the hotel room he shares with the twins. But—no, no he's in a bookstore and it starts to come back to him. Oh shite, he's in the way—

But when he looks up at the pair of legs in front of him, he realizes exactly who has found him.

Is the tinge of irritation in the back of his mind his or Emet-Selch's? It's hard to say. But appropriate either way. ]

...

[ G'raha awkwardly pulls himself together, tugging the edge of his hood down a little further. ]

I assume I'm in your way?

You usually are.

[ It comes out dry, lacking a lot of the bite he’d usually put behind such a statement. He wouldn’t say that they’re magically friends, no matter how much the phenomena on the train might have insisted, but he has started to come around to G’raha Tia’s apparent role in his life.

They are not truly rivals. Certainly not friends. Neither are they strictly enemies. They do not like each other, but if Emet-Selch ever had need of a similar mind to pick, he knows he could do worse than the man formerly known as the Crystal Exarch.

Perhaps… not as “formerly” as he would like, at present. ]

You will need to do more than a flimsy hood to fool me, G’raha Tia. That trick only availed you the once. Never again.

[ He gives him a long, knowing look, arms crossed, one eyebrow arched. Whatever is happening to the Scion is dire indeed, and even Emet-Selch would say that he doesn’t like the look of it. He’s concerned, in his way.

A bit begrudgingly, he offers the other man a hand up. ]

[ livio isn't much of a reader, but he does occasionally peruse the bookstore out of curiosity. imagine his surprise when he spots a familiar face, asleep? which in and of itself is not particularly alarming (though it's hardly a good place to sleep), but there's something definitely off about g'raha. there's crystal on his skin, his arm, up his neck. ]

[ normally livio would have let him sleep, maybe put his cloak over him, but this is too alarming to ignore. he crouches by g'raha, tapping him lightly on the shoulder ]

G'raha? What's happenin' to ya?

[ is this a problem magic can fix? he certainly hopes so, because otherwise he's in no position to help his kitty cat friend ]

[ For anything else...like Heart once said, "we can make it happen". ]

OPEN💠stand tall, my friend

FRINGES💠gleaming diffusion zone

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FRINGES💠the road to panorama

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PANORAMA 💠local clinic

PANORAMA 💠candygrams

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PANORAMA 💠bookstore

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wall of books

WILDCARD💠anything goes