[ti]private[/ti]Started out just having fun Now every night blends into one

Tuesday is pretty damn sure she's having a great day, because by her definition, all days are exactly that if you yourself are pretty damn great. It's not about unshakable optimism or some 'take control of your own narrative' life coaching bullshit, it's simply that that's the way Mars is, and by extension, it's also the way Tuesday is. Confident. Self-assured. Capable of facing and beating-the-hell-out of anything life — and by extension, UNOVR — throws their way.

Even if that anything is a Ninetales that corruption has turned into some sort of fucked up Chernobyl horror story mutation.

<'My liege.'>

They both see it: the marks on the ground, the scorched earth, the plants that have shrivelled up and died when everything else near them is brimming with life. They both know what it means. And, when the sound of a guttural roar rings through the Birchwild Grove, they both know what must be done.

"Ancile!" Breaking into a sprint, she takes a sharp turn, leaf litter crunching beneath steel sabatons. But... instead of running away from the signs of a corrupted Pokémon's presence, Tuesday runs towards them, Immovable spear in hand and Cryogonal levitating ahead — forever a shield between her and danger. "Ranged attacks, Ancile. I don't want you getting corrupted too."

Not again, she thinks.

<'Yes, my liege.'>

What they hadn't counted on was the presence of a stranger.

A stranger that, with a whistled command from Tuesday, the Cryogonal casts chains towards. Gelid yet gleaming in gold, Ancile's chains wrap around the stranger's wrist, harshly pulling him aside just in time for him to narrowly avoid the corrupted beast that pounces with an attack.

"Yo." Tuesday says, standing tall while a rainbow flame cloak of pearlescent white feathers billows behind her, light and airy. Her gaze, as gelid and golden as her Cryogonal's chains, falls down upon the stranger. There's a vague familiarity there, but in the heat of battle, she does not bother with greetings or nametags. "You better not even touch that thing. Unless you want to get corrupted too."

However, despite all this, a smirk finds its way to Tuesday's lips — playful, excited, and perhaps also a little wicked.

The Ninetales — if it can even be called that now — takes a defensive stance now, sensing a battle and angered at the loss of its prey. Its growling is as grating of a sound as it is fucking disgusting, and Tuesday clicks her tongue when seeing the birch it had crashed again begin to wither. She too prepares, changing her stance and readying her spear. Without ever looking away from the beast, she addresses the stranger one more time:

"You're a new player, right? You might wanna hide."

He's just a clueless new player in her eyes: someone who has no idea what he's dealing with and who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. However, there's a strange feeling Tuesday can't quite shake off. A feeling she's given no choice but to put a pin on until the immediate problem at hand is dealt with...

That being the corrupted Ninetales that lunges towards her, claws at the ready.

She does not flee. She stands her ground instead, all too aware of the terrified little man behind her. Her right foot goes before the left, a hand slides down the length of the spear to find its pommel, and when the beast is a mere metre away, she pushes all her weight forward, the spear's blade pushing through soft flesh, rigid muscle, and bones that snap with a blood-curdling sound that comes in company of a surprised yelp.

Ribs. The spear hard pierced right beneath the beast's front-right leg, causing ink-like substance to drip down, burning everything it touches as if it were corrosive acid.

"Alexa." A single word is spoken calm and cold despite the much louder roaring and barking, and no matter how much the beast struggles and snaps at the weapon, it remains right where it is, frozen in midair — immovable even after Tuesday lets go of it.

"Ancile." The Cryogonal gives no words. When Tuesday speaks, it acts, making use of its ancient power to summon shards of stone that pierce everything they touch. As they had well learned once, corrupt as a Pokémon may be, their weaknesses often remain the same, and Ancile knows just how to beat a feral Ninetales...

"You still alive back there?" Tuesday asks the stranger then, not taking her gaze off the beast until sure it's gone or dead.

"Hmmm. Maybe I did, maybe I didn't." Tuesday responds in that oh so calm and smooth tone of hers when asked if she had killed the supposed Ninetales. There's really no way of telling, because even if there's a wet thwack when she snatches her spear away, causing a cascade of black liquid to ooze out of the beast, it could very well awaken again and lunge at them. There's no real death in UNOVR, and with corrupt Pokémon, just about anything is possible.

She tells herself to be alert, and Ancile certainly is, but at that moment, when the stranger steps closer to the supposedly fallen beast, she sees it so very clearly in her HUD: starlitlover. Fuck. It can't be, can it? No, of course it is. The name, the looks, the cluelessness, the voice Mars could recognize anywhere even after all these years...

She had been too distracted by the corrupt Pokémon before, but now, it's all so very obvious.

"You know, I used to know someone who used the handle Starlitlovers to write online..." She says instead of answering his question, a hand reaching to take hold of the back of his cloak and pull him away from the corruption. She does so more harshly than what's needed and also more harshly than what she had intended to. Is it that deep down she wants to hurt him? Is she really not glad to see him after all this time? "He fancied himself an author, but his writing was pretty damn subpar."

Okay, so maybe she isn't glad and does want to hurt him. Emotional damage and all that. Yet, if he were to look back at her, Adarsa would actually see a smile — one warm, confident, bright, and just like those Mars always bears.

It's too damn easy. Truly, other than spear and blade, Tuesday might as well specialize in the art of verbal slaughter, but then again, it's also a matter of standing before someone that she knows exactly how to hurt. The problem is that there's a certain amount of recoil to it too.

The problem is that there are old wounds that Mars had thought long-healed that begin to ache now that Adarsa is before his golden gaze once again, especially when he asks who she is.

An eyebrow quirks, taking her a second to realize that it makes sense. Of course Adarsa doesn't realize who she is, Tuesday purposefully is completely different from Mars himself (in a appearance at least). This tall, blonde catgirl in her armour, with her smooth soprano that even has a more subtle Hispanic lilt than what his had been years ago. There's no way anyone would know it's him even unless he told them like he had done with Finnegan Fjord once. Not even ibis recognizes him in Tuesday despite knowing IRL. Except that, in actuality, there's a single thing that connects Tuesday to Mars:

"Me? I'm Tuesday, and you need to check your HUD settings so that it displays other players' names." When her name is spoken, it's purposefully said in a manner closer to 'Týr's day', because if there's anyone in this game that Mars would expect to be able to make that connection, that is starlitlover. But, then again, he may have forgotten.

"We should get out of here before that thing comes back to life and actually eats you, by the way."

We. Why does she say we? She should leave him to his own devices. Hell, she shouldn't even warn him. So, why does she? Maybe it's pity. Maybe it's that its entertaining to see how utterly clueless he is.

Still, despite all those conflicting thoughts, Tuesday turns and begins walking, not bothering to wait for him. Her Cryogonal, on the other hand, gives Starlitlover a gelid look before following after her.

"Like?"

Here's the thing: as much as this unshakable confidence of hers can often steamroll over people who aren't used to those who behave in such ways, Tuesday is, for the most part, quite amiable most of the time. She loves meeting new people and tends to be nice towards new players. And, Mars? Hell, Mars could charm just about anyone (as Adarsa knows better than most). Sadly for him, Tuesday is currently in a sour mood.

"Oh, I'm obviously an NPC and the game's representation of Týr himself. Gotta love turning Norse gods into hot cat girls, you know? It really sells." Every word drips in sarcasm as she walks through the Birchwild, leaflitter crunching with her every step. She gives Starlitlover a slight smirk with those words, but it's one that is quick to fade.

"You didn't touch it, did you?"

She decides to make her way for the shrine just in case, since she should do something about cleaning the spear she holds. Inklike blood still coats its tip, and Tuesday definitely has no interest in touching it.

Yes, it really is too damn easy, but just like how Tuesday manages to annoy Adarsa without much effort at all, his barrage of questions earn him a deep sigh on the Alchemist's part — loud and so very exasperated.

"Adarsa." The name is spoken out of habit when addressing him, even if it's a name that hasn't been spoken by Mars in years. Hell, he hadn't even thought about Adarsa in years, but now, as they walk through the Birchwild, it all comes flooding back. The name sounds different when spoken by Tuesday, at least. Colder. "If you want me to help you, you're really gonna have to start asking me one question at a time, man."

Tuesday doesn't talk like what most people would expect from a cute cat girl.

After all, Tuesday is and will always be Mars.

"That Ninetales was a Corrupt Pokémon, it's a sort of—... mechanic in the game. The name is pretty damn self-explanatory. They're aggressive as fuck and can get you and your Pokémon corrupted too, so stay away from them."

Of course, that's not exactly every detail of how corruption works, but Tuesday herself had long ago decided to go by this rule: corruption's bad, stay away. Should be simple enough concept to grasp, right?

By her side, the spear drips, black liquid melting the grass beneath. Tuesday pays it no mind, and no, she still doesn't tell Adarsa exactly who she is.

He really hasn't changed much.

Thoughts like judging whispers make their way into her mind, assessing every single one of Adarsa's actions and words and coming to a conclusion as simple as that. No, he hasn't changed, not at first glance... not even in how his attempt to glare at her most closely resembles a puppy's growling poor and fucking adorable attempt to seem intimidating. And that's the thing, it's fucking adorable, and the fact that he still thinks so after all these years annoys Mars to no end.

Tuesday closes the distance between them in two swift steps, eyes of gold looking down into Adarsa's own. Ha. He's still so short.

"You really can't tell? Adarsa, I'm—"

Call it comedic timing. Call it a cruel twist of fate. Call it whatever you want to call it, but at that moment, Tuesday's belated introduction is interrupted by the sound of hissing, dark ichor burning through the fabric of starlitlover's pants right at his ankles, all too close to his still very much shoeless feet. The spear had gotten a little too close, apparently.

"Oh... shit."