psl/meme catch-all (2025)

[pantheraliam]

muses

code

aot art•omori art•bsd art

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(closed to plotted with) first notice

[depollute]

[He's guessing it's probably the gloves or the black mask over his mouth, though startling blue eyes might do. Then again, maybe it's the way he can't quite stand straight, keeps looking anywhere but directly in the eye.

[Nervous kid.]

[surveillingscion]

[The mask is certainly not a common sight to her, at least not that fashion of it. But it’s so often about sight with this one, who stands entirely upright, hands at her side with a practiced (if unnatural) neutrality, and searches for a contact which, apparently, isn’t happening.

[That’s alright. She follows his gaze into nothing for the answer:] Your eyes.

[Hers are similar.]

[depollute]

[Your eyes. They shift up, observe Caitlyn's for a moment. There's something unstill about them.]

People have told me that before.

[He stammers just a little when he speaks. His voice projects with unnatural, practiced volume, just like Caitlyn stands with an unnatural, practiced stance.]

[surveillingscion]

[There’s the contact, while it lasts. Interesting. He knows how to speak, through the mask.]

The objective is the first notice, not the most novel. [Not so much a correction as a neutral statement. She does keep her eyes on him now, though.] Is there something you’d prefer people notice, instead?

[depollute]

[He doesn't quite scoff, or, at least, if he does, it's only at himself. He shakes his head a little.]

N-no. [The stammer sounds more like something his mouth's doing than nervous hesitation.] Nothing--

Well.

[Well.]

An aura, maybe. [A tarot reader once told him he had canary yellow energy and a locked door. He thinks about that a lot.]

[surveillingscion]

[An aura. Also not a word she hears every day. Woo-adjacent? Not that she’d have believed talk of cults and miracles until, well.]

You seem uneasy. [The most straightforward option, after which she folds her arms lightly and shifts weight to one side. Closer to casual.] But anyone might be, up for public judgment.

[depollute]

No. [That soft, awkward scoffing sound again.]

No, I'm just. Uneasy.

It's not you.

[surveillingscion]

[A beat. Unsure. Two fingers tap the corner of her arm, for a moment.]

There are worse things to be. [You know.] Than uneasy.

What sort of aura did you mean?

[depollute]

[Is she trying to comfort him? It's nice of her. It's a little embarrassing too.

[Luckily, they're talking about something else now. Some new light sparks in those blue eyes, the first thing Caitlyn noticed.]

Do you believe in spirits? Ghosts, or...anything like that?

[surveillingscion]

[She’s trying her best. A spark at the topic shift: noted.]

I have seen… […Hm. What was that, really. How, exactly, does one describe that.

[Her face scrunches crooked, considering.] …similar? phenomenon? [Then shrugs it off.] Certainly something suggesting the existence of a spirit, yes.

[depollute]

[All it takes is 'I have' and Ocean is locked on. While Caitlyn is scrunching up her nose and considering her words, he's pulling a small pad of paper and a pen out of his pocket. He holds it there, poised. There's nothing to write yet.]

What was it? What was it like? What--

[Slow down. Take a breath, clear your throat.]

Sorry. Sorry.

Please, tell me everything.

[surveillingscion]

[—Oh, hello. Typically she’s the one taking out the notepad. The surprise on her face is immediate and extremely readable, for the split second it lasts, and her hands drop loosely as she tames her expression back to something more or less neutral.]

Nothing to be sorry for. [Stalling, slightly. Quick glance aside. Does he want to sit down? It doesn’t have to be prolonged;] It was just, ah…

I witnessed what appeared to be people’s… [a hand absently waves, rises;] essences? Taken from their bodies, physically—as though, er…

[She places fingertips across her face in what could be an exasperated gesture, though the wrist-led lift that follows, upwards, is anything but conventional. Her expression is lopsided again. There seems to be some attempt at words, but… none materialize.]

Sorry. [Eyes back to him, and other arm folded again.] I’m aware this is unhelpful.

[depollute]

[Ocean shakes his head, breathless. He's forgotten to write anything down.]

It's incredible. And I believe you! [She's done nothing to let on that she worries otherwise, but just in case.]

It sounds like something pulled their spiritual energy right out of them. The eyes and mouth are a common location.

What happened afterward? Were--

[His voice chokes off. Rude. He shakes his head a bit and clears his throat.]

Sorry. You don't have to answer if you don't want to, [That's what people are supposed to say. He doesn't necessarily mean it.] but...

Were they okay?

[surveillingscion]

[“It’s incredible,” he says, while she feels ridiculous as the hand-above-head gesture must look—up to a point.

[This is common???]

Ask away, [with a small nod,] please. [Approving. Seems they both have much to discover.]

Afterward… [The raised hand closes lightly, and she props it by her chin.] Truth be told, I was preoccupied. But they certainly didn’t get up again. [Delivered with a similar “that, inexplicably, happened” tone, with no particular weight. Perhaps that’s callous. She had—has—other priorities.]

[depollute]

[It is callous. It halts him a little.]

You mean they....died? Or...

They just didn't get up again?

[She said she was preoccupied. Maybe she hasn't had time to follow up...]

The dying is...less common.

[surveillingscion]

It’s admittedly conjectural. [or: She didn’t linger in the aftermath.] But I believe that must have killed them.

[Unclear if she caught the halt. He’s asking, she’s answering, and there’s minimal hesitation on her end.]

Spiritually, if not physically.

[depollute]

That. [Ocean interrupts himself with a nod. It continues on, head bobbing.]

That makes more sense. There are reports of people falling into comas and never waking up. Things like that...

Do you know what caused it? An entity?

[surveillingscion]

[She is almost certain that field is not full of coma-addled non-corpses. But he’s not asking, so that detail is kept to herself.

[…Actually, has his demeanor shifted? A bit hard to tell, between the usual thoughts and that. bobbing. nod.

[Caitlyn follows it with her eyes for a handful of bobs, and then blinks and carries on:] An entity, yes. A person, most likely. [Synonymous? Not?]

He’d been known as a “miracle worker.” [Some doubt in her tone, despite… well, everything else.]

[depollute]

[Ocean's frown is hidden by his mask, but one might catch it, somehow, at the corner of his eyes, or the subtle upturn of his brow.]

Eh...Well, when I said entity, I didn't really mean--

[Someone who harnesses spiritual energy, maybe? Like a witch...? Not really Ocean's thing normally, but...]

You don't happen to know where he gets that power, do you? Or...how he's able to access it? I guess?

[surveillingscion]

[Does she know. If her hunch is right… it answers some questions, and raises many, many others. But if it’s something else…]

It’s beyond me. [After pausing a bit too long for that to be convincing. Ultimately, that part of the story isn’t hers to tell.] What entity did you mean?

[depollute]

[He thinks she's lying. He's also the last person who would confront something about someone like that. He's better at believing people.]

Well. Some sort of...spiritual entity - non-corporeal. Not a human, but...a ghost, or a demon - something like that...?

[surveillingscion]

Well, I certainly wouldn’t call him a demon. [Flat, if ever so slightly defensive. On his behalf, really.] But I do think he’s corporeal. And… [a walking corpse;] more or less alive.

How do you know so much about these topics, anywho? [Not doubtful or hostile. Curious....]

[depollute]

It's what I do.

[It's funny how he hasn't stammered once since they started talking about this in earnest.]

I'm a paranormal investigator.

[Imagine a little trumpet sound effect. Maybe a violin shriek instead?]

[57times]

[ It doesn't seem as though eye contact's his thing, so Esther doesn't try to force it. Just gives him a quick, but thorough appraisal. ]

The fact you're nervous. Uncomfortable.

[depollute]

[Ocean lets out a huff, perhaps sardonic, or maybe exhausted. He shrugs his shoulders up by his ears, then seems to realize he's folding in half. He straightens himself out.]

It's not you.