Rezo has only experienced voidstorms once in his time aboard the Voidtrecker Express, but he’d known from both that and word of mouth what to expect. So it isn’t a real surprise to him when people start remarking on the colors and auras, and he braces himself for his own audio hallucinations.
Except, as the morning goes on, he keeps overhearing people mention the color phenomenon and yet for him… Everything’s the same as normal.
It’s not that he wants to be hallucinating, but if he hears another remark about what color something is, he’ll… Well. There isn’t really anything he can do except stew in his own awkwardness, is there?
(Unbeknownst to Rezo, he is steadily turning a darker and darker shade of grey-blue as the morning goes on.)
Layer 2 - Library Loudmouth
Ah, socialization. Truly Rezo’s worst nemesis. In a bid to escape his suddenly chatty fellow passengers and to distract from his own alarming urge to open up, Rezo has headed to the library. Surely a book will keep him occupied, and surely nobody will be rude enough to interrupt somebody who is reading!
…Or at least, that was the plan. He’s only a few pages into a random novel when he hears somebody moving nearby, and before he knows it he’s lowered the book and opened his mouth.
“Have you read this one?” he asks. “The style is very odd.”
Layer 4 - Furor Scribendi/Furor Consuendi
It’s the second day of this very chaotic trip and Rezo has once again retreated to the library. This time he’s not trying to hide from anything however- this time he is a man on a mission. You see, Lioriley is the most wonderful, sweetest, lovable woman to exist in any world, and Rezo simply has to get down all the ways I love thee or else he feels as though he might burst from all the emotions.
So he’s claimed a table, normally meant for studying, and is trying to express his feelings through the time honored medium of the love letter. Or maybe three love letters. Or six. Or twelve. Or…
His hand is terribly stained with ink, there’s an increasingly large stack of letters piled next to him, and he shows no sign of stopping writing anytime soon.
But later, he will have stopped writing… Only to be struck with the inspiration for another project. And so Rezo is seated in one of the few free corners of the art car, surrounded by scraps of fabric, wads of cotton, yarn, boxes of buttons, spools of thread, etc. And he is hand-stitching together… something, at an almost alarming pace.
And if you’re someone who Rezo has been even remotely friendly with in the past? Prepare yourself for Rezo suddenly holding out one of his little creations in front of you. It’s probably a doll, or a stuffed animal, but it’s made from the most random assortment of fabric and lumpy body parts, so it looks vaguely reminiscent of the voidblobs some of you may remember from Ciyesia.
“Here!” he says cheerfully. “This is for you.”
Some Mild Turbulence
Rezo may not be able to see it, but he feels that chaotic nothingness prickling up his spine, and his ears ring with the sounds of the horrific chorus of the void.
And then- the thread snaps and Rezo stumbles as the train begins its violent rocketing about. Rezo swears, loud but easy to miss in the chaos, and tries his damndest to keep his balance even as it feels like everything is falling apart.
If you’re significantly smaller than Rezo you may find him suddenly grabbing and leaning over you, operating on instinct to protect from any objects that may go flying during all the shaking- let alone anything that may drop out of the ceiling once it starts buckling.
Some time later, when everything has calmed down, Rezo will be making his way through the train cars, stopping to check on each and every person he comes across. He’ll ask “Is anyone hurt?” as well as distribute blankets and towels to anyone who seems to need them.
Wildcard
[[HMU if you want a custom starter, or feel free to throw one of your own at me. Maybe you want to confess your UNDYING HATRED for this man!]]
Rezo Greywords | Red Team | OTA
Rezo has only experienced voidstorms once in his time aboard the Voidtrecker Express, but he’d known from both that and word of mouth what to expect. So it isn’t a real surprise to him when people start remarking on the colors and auras, and he braces himself for his own audio hallucinations.
Except, as the morning goes on, he keeps overhearing people mention the color phenomenon and yet for him… Everything’s the same as normal.
It’s not that he wants to be hallucinating, but if he hears another remark about what color something is, he’ll… Well. There isn’t really anything he can do except stew in his own awkwardness, is there?
(Unbeknownst to Rezo, he is steadily turning a darker and darker shade of grey-blue as the morning goes on.)
Ah, socialization. Truly Rezo’s worst nemesis. In a bid to escape his suddenly chatty fellow passengers and to distract from his own alarming urge to open up, Rezo has headed to the library. Surely a book will keep him occupied, and surely nobody will be rude enough to interrupt somebody who is reading!
…Or at least, that was the plan. He’s only a few pages into a random novel when he hears somebody moving nearby, and before he knows it he’s lowered the book and opened his mouth.
“Have you read this one?” he asks. “The style is very odd.”
It’s the second day of this very chaotic trip and Rezo has once again retreated to the library. This time he’s not trying to hide from anything however- this time he is a man on a mission. You see, Lioriley is the most wonderful, sweetest, lovable woman to exist in any world, and Rezo simply has to get down all the ways I love thee or else he feels as though he might burst from all the emotions.
So he’s claimed a table, normally meant for studying, and is trying to express his feelings through the time honored medium of the love letter. Or maybe three love letters. Or six. Or twelve. Or…
His hand is terribly stained with ink, there’s an increasingly large stack of letters piled next to him, and he shows no sign of stopping writing anytime soon.
But later, he will have stopped writing… Only to be struck with the inspiration for another project. And so Rezo is seated in one of the few free corners of the art car, surrounded by scraps of fabric, wads of cotton, yarn, boxes of buttons, spools of thread, etc. And he is hand-stitching together… something, at an almost alarming pace.
And if you’re someone who Rezo has been even remotely friendly with in the past? Prepare yourself for Rezo suddenly holding out one of his little creations in front of you. It’s probably a doll, or a stuffed animal, but it’s made from the most random assortment of fabric and lumpy body parts, so it looks vaguely reminiscent of the voidblobs some of you may remember from Ciyesia.
“Here!” he says cheerfully. “This is for you.”
Rezo may not be able to see it, but he feels that chaotic nothingness prickling up his spine, and his ears ring with the sounds of the horrific chorus of the void.
And then- the thread snaps and Rezo stumbles as the train begins its violent rocketing about. Rezo swears, loud but easy to miss in the chaos, and tries his damndest to keep his balance even as it feels like everything is falling apart.
If you’re significantly smaller than Rezo you may find him suddenly grabbing and leaning over you, operating on instinct to protect from any objects that may go flying during all the shaking- let alone anything that may drop out of the ceiling once it starts buckling.
Some time later, when everything has calmed down, Rezo will be making his way through the train cars, stopping to check on each and every person he comes across. He’ll ask “Is anyone hurt?” as well as distribute blankets and towels to anyone who seems to need them.
[[HMU if you want a custom starter, or feel free to throw one of your own at me. Maybe you want to confess your UNDYING HATRED for this man!]]