with a thousand lies and a good disguise

Note: Pancake's bonds are latent—he can't access them until he somehow gets access to the Velvet Room. They tick up in the background, nonetheless.

In the VRDR

Goro Akechi, aspiringhero. (Hope, rank 3)
Goro Akechi, fogboundcrow/fogbornphantom. (Death, rank 10)

rank 2 (latent): Third Eye.

Ren Amamiya, willowandoak. (Sun, rank 3)
Akira Kurusu, youngestdawn. (Enlightenment, rank 1)
Goro Akechi, gorobo. (Seeker, rank 10)
Goro Akechi (Shadow) fogbornphantom. (Magician, rank 1)

reserved

Aeon (Haru Okumura, rosemaudite).

At home

Masayoshi Shido. (Tower, rank 10, reversed)
Muhen. (Temperance, rank 1)
Ren Amamiya. (Star, rank 6)
Sae Niijima. (Hierophant, rank 2)

reserved

Justice (Futaba Sakura).
Judgement (Haru Okumura).

personas

• Loki.
• Robin Hood.
• Fafnir (Seeker)
• Hastur (Star), -- S--D N--N.
• Abaddon (Aeon), DD ---- --SD.
• Yamata-no-Orochi (Aeon), S- -D-S ---S.
• Raja Naga (Temperance), -- --N- ----.
• If he had the Velvet Room, he could fuse Alice (Death rank 10), but he doesn't.
• Gabriel (Temperance), -- ---- N-D-.

incidentally

His roundworld birthday is April 11th—there are eight months to the day between his departure date of 11/2 and his next birthday of 6/2.

For all the talk of blowing up the Diet Building, and his little rampage through Shido's office the day he arrived, Akechi doesn't try his father's keywords until the day after he learns everything. Or at least... some things. The shadow of how things might, or might not be.

The ship is right there, no different to how he remembers. He moves through it uncostumed, unmasked, just as he always has, in that mossy green jacket that's slightly less tailored than his shirt and pants; he belongs. The guests titter and giggle about their privilege; the cognitions look through him as if he isn't real. Sometimes he feels eyes on him and looks up, only to realise he's looking into a mirror.

Eventually, far inside the ship, in the balconied chamber with the plants that the Shadows patrol, he drops down into a chair. Could call Loki and run rampage here, if he wanted. Could pull his gun and put a bullet through each of those patrolling Shadows, one, two, three. Could use his claws, tear those plants from their holders for a start. Shred the velvet, punch through the walls. Scream and scream and scream. Beat the palace hollow till whatever's lurking in its deepest depths shows up to finish him.

But he doesn't. One mustn't, after all—heh—rock the boat. Even if you want nothing more than to tear a hole in the hull and go down with it. Even if you've been running, and running, and someone's dropped a brick wall into your path.

Abruptly, his head snaps up, eyes sharpening. Someone's here.