voice; i have absolutely zero interest in friendship, i have absolutely zero interest in jokes

[inconsequence]

[Ordinarily text is their preferred method of communication. It is simple, to the point, and allows them ample time to compose their response with as many polysyllabic words as possible, as if that might compensate for their apparent youth. But there is little to no time for that, now. So the transmission, when it occurs, is audio only.

The tone of the speaker is that of a child's - albeit a cold, brisk, and businesslike one.]

Some time ago, it seems that a significant portion of the Moira's crew, when it existed, was abducted by a group of interdimensional slavers. They were held against their will. Exploited for the purposes of others.

[A hiss of a match being struck, and the crackle of something being set alight, and the voice continues:]

There were children among them.

[A moment. A halting intake of breath, the fluid cadence of their speech disrupted. Muzzling the impulse that swells in their chest, the boiling ember of rage that eats at what passes for a SOUL, for one such as them. Expression flat, words dull. Control. Control. Always, control.

Speak as though nothing is wrong.]

I am transmitting the Ingress signature one may use to access this world. Those that possess a conscience, or those that simply wish to have something to fight - [The last word twists into something else, a live snake coiling into a promise.] - I would encourage you to take action.

private to METTATON:
The way is open. Try not to get killed.

[Attached is the Ingress signature. They've already wasted more words than he's worth, honestly, but if something should happen to him, both Frisk and Asriel will very likely have something to say about it.]

private to ASRIEL and FRISK:
I will be away on a mission of sorts for a few days. Do not worry about me, and please, do not follow. I am well equipped for the task.

[[ooc: head on down to the mingle log if u want to do a slaver ass-kicking]]

Comments

[inconsequence]

I've broken the rules. I've been rash and impulsive.

Would rescinding any assistance not be infinitely more useful in putting an end to this, and more aligned with your preferences?

[squadgoals]

In what way? I doubt it would do anything but hurt you. I don't rejoice in anyone's pain.

I'm happy to talk this over, but considering that this post is public, you've got a pretty limited window for Ingress usage right now. I'd get going while the going's good.

[inconsequence]

Do I not deserve it?

[Don't they -

No. She's correct; they are allowing the conversation to distract them from the end goal, here. The far more imperative end goal. This discussion, they're certain, is far from over, and assuming their job is now not thoroughly jeopardized, there's liable to be a penalty of some sort, down the road.

From whom, they cannot say.]

Do not come through after me.

[She's done...enough. Hasn't she?

No need to endanger herself further.]

[squadgoals]

No, you don't.

And I won't.

[She stares at the last message as it sends, unmoving, expression unreadable — then, slowly, begins to clean up her office, shuffling piles of datapads together into filing, closing up cabinets, shutting down screens and computers. It's a rote process for Shepard, one she usually does methodically—if not a touch petulantly—at the end of every workday, and today is no exception.

Except for the fact that it's barely past midday.

Once it's in a reasonable semblance of order, she makes her way out, keying the door locked behind her. True to her word, she wouldn't be going through the Ingress after Chara.

But she would be there for them when they returned.]