Welcome to Adventu, your final fantasy rp haven. adventu focuses on both canon and original characters from different worlds and timelines that have all been pulled to the world of zephon: a familiar final fantasy-styled land where all adventurers will fight, explore, and make new personal connections.
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year 5, quarter 3
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Unlike the figure that struggled fiercely against the facility's alien mechanisms in a desperate bid for progress, Gogo simply bathed in the stillness and silence of it all, feeling the desolation caress them as if it were a form of magic all its own. Solitude within the bowels of this abandoned place had also given way to a rampant sense of imagination, leading Gogo to wonder about the complex's original intended purpose, seeing as there were weaponized lasers on the lower levels.
Without a word, Gogo peered left, then right, seeing nothing of interest apart from broken pottery and a bounty of cobwebs and broken parts to things that had been long since salvaged by earlier parties. Fixing their attentions back on the great metallic door, the master mime wondered about its contents. Were they about to stumble into some ancient superweapon? Perhaps it was an archive containing this culture's buried secrets? Honestly, they could even settle for a pile of gil at this point. Or more robes! Fancier ones, at that!
The lights suddenly lapse and give out, only to restore themselves as fast as they were extinguished. Remaining perfectly motionless, both arms dangling at each side, Gogo prepared to withdraw the Scorpion Tail if need be. A guttural churning noise soon follows suit, yet the mime cannot anticipate where inside the complex it comes from or what its arrival insinuates. Instead, a person must presume the danger is all around them, until it reveals itself.
Click. The monolithic aperture begins to rumble and slowly partitioners at the center, and as it sluggishly opens, a form materializes between the newly-created space; a person, from the looks of it, wearing gossamer clothes and accoutrements that could either be viewed as impractical or provocative, depending on the opinion. More alarming than their choice of wardrobe, however, was the fact that their entire being resonated and bristled with the unmistakable pulse of magic.
As if possessed by some higher force beyond reckoning, Gogo poured the entirety of their being toward the goal of replicating the stranger's defensive stance, arm raised and ready to cast a spell in return. Of course, they were not thrumming with arcane power, but this was because Gogo did not have to present themselves like an amateur in order to be threatening.
Watching their every move with hawkish intent, the Master of Simulacrum could recognize a wave of realization slowly fill their thoughts. Were they anticipating something else? The hypothesis seemed valid enough, Gogo surmised, and it would be confirmed in proper the moment a question was levied their way.
”You…what are you doing here?” The query is reflected back at the feathery-haired fellow, in the exact same cadence and tone as their voice. Like them, Gogo took to examining their appearance in greater detail, before eventually assessing them to be some kind of magician by their control over lightning and vague aura of pomposity. Their own efforts to study the master mime enabled Gogo to discern that they were probing for details, information, data they could exploit. Gogo would give them nothing, because there is nothing to provide.
”Can you…understand me?” Gogo imitates the second question, again using the stranger's own voice. In a sense, the mimic had hoped so. Replicating the behaviors and actions of others was an art form rarely appreciated, let alone tolerated, and it seemed like this person also had a penchant for the dramatic.
”I mean no harm,” Gogo copied. Third time's the charm. ”And who might you be?”
As they ran for their actual life, Gogo felt the distinctive surge of static in the air, and it was powerful. The weapon-carrying man evidently possessed a talent for the casting of magics, as a single gesture toward the heavens called down a mighty bolt of lightning to impede the advance of the massive creature that had set its sights on the famed mimic. Gogo made sure to dive for the ground just as the stranger's magic connected with the Behemoth, causing the beast to yowl as plasma seared flesh.
Scrambling back to their feet again, the mime closed enough distance between themselves and the man who had saved their life to obtain a better look. Goggles over cropped blond hair, clothes smudged with dirt and grime from various sources, a spear that looked entirely handmade, and the presence of several gem-like objects embedded within it. They were obviously a skilled warrior, else the very heavens would not have bowed to his whim mere moments ago.
As Gogo's rescuer locked eyes with the Behemoth, without skipping a beat, so too did the master mime. He gives the suggestion to run away and leave the matter to him, provoking a scoff in disbelief. “A person would be evil to trade lives in dangerous conditions,” cryptically spoke the mime as they scanned their environment for something they could arm themselves with. Against all odds, Gogo's eyes landed upon a rusted spear that had long since been abandoned to the plains by its former owner, and with several cautious steps, they retrieved the armament and gave it a practice flourish with renewed vim and vigor. “Allow this one to repay the favor.”
Closing a thumb around their middle and ring fingers with pointer and pinky fully extended, sparks began to generate between Gogo's fingertips. Fiercely gazing upon the monster that nearly devoured them, the mimic dramatically raised their arm to the sky as it roiled and churned, calling forth a second bolt of lightning down upon the beast in earnest. Hot plasma scorches the Behemoth's hide worse than any fire could, but it clearly appeared much too resilient for electrocution, and winds up twice as aggravated as it had been earlier.
Gogo hummed, ready to cast another spell at a moment's notice. They had doubts about the rusted spear's efficacy, but if memory served correctly, Behemoths were immune to poison, meaning the Scorpion Tail was all but neutered here; withdrawing it would only be a matter of self-defense at this point. “This one proposes we defeat this monster together,” Gogo suggested to the stranger next to themselves, unsure of their odds of success, but determined to give the Behemoth hell all the same.
Little did either of them know, a third party had arrived moments ago, and was just about to stumble upon the scene.
Obtaining directions here was a simple matter, really. In spite of how little time had passed since they first awoke in this exotic realm, the famed master mimic Gogo could intuit the social systems of the Fractured City enough to earn partial access to a map of the world. Zephon, or that was what Fran had called it. It was unlike anything Gogo had ever seen before, and certainly a far cry from their own world — at least, until it was ravaged and destroyed by Kefka's hands; from the looks of it, Zephon appeared fully intact, unbroken, and certainly not oozing with the power of unrestrained magics.
But what exactly inspired Gogo to leave the safety of the Fractured City and brave so perilous a trek alone? Why act on the compulsion to traverse leagues and miles of hostile landscapes and unknown wilds, if not for the reward that came after so dangerous a venture?
Why, purest curiosity, of course! No gold or jewels could ever sate the peculiar nature of one so strange as Gogo, who sought only to replicate everything that crossed their path; and replicate with aplomb, they did, for doing so afforded them a vast wealth of something far greater than any treasure: knowledge. And it's as they say: knowledge is power.
For instance, Gogo knew that where they were headed was known as "The Lost City", and that it was more of a colloquial term for a grand and sprawling series of ancient ruins built into the very mountains themselves, and that very little about their original purpose is known, apart from the fact that the ruins are lined with antique traps and arcane barriers rumored to still function, even long after the original inhabitants had vanished from the face of this world.
They also knew that they would have to hug the outskirts of the Metaia Marshlands, a prominent swamp region, in order to reach the so-called Lost City. Much of the wildlife avoided Gogo as they traveled, courtesy in part to an alchemical mixture that the mimic had learned to concoct by way of observing the Fractured City's locals go about their daily craft; finding the ingredients had been easier, as they grew in abundance near the settlement's outskirts and close to the marshlands themselves.
Which left the question of the Lost City proper: how do you explore ruins armed to the nines with ancient weapons? As it turned out, Gogo could obtain answers to this question by asking passing adventurers who had tried to plumb the ruins for treasure, only to be run out by contraptions that ominously sounded similar to the Magitek machines employed by the Gestahlians. And, fortunately, Gogo had experience dealing with such devices.
Entering the lower levels of the facility, Gogo would reach into their robes and withdraw a golden spiked flail, allowing the weighted ball to drop menacingly. Behold, the Scorpion Tail, a deadly instrument of war lined with a most potent venom. A perfect tool against organic creatures or people, but less so in the face of far more mechanical nightmares. And it was equally fortunate that nothing had jumped out to attack them just yet, as it seemed the complex did not have any sort of life to it.
Ascending the facility was a tougher challenge, for as soon as they entered a large vestibule, lights began to flicker and move their way towards Gogo's form, until several bright pinpoints of red light hovered just slightly over their face. Instinctively, they rush to cover, and just in the nick of time, for these harmless beams of red quickly turned into scorching hot lasers that could have easily vaporized the mime, had they reacted a second slower. Perhaps it was best that they took a different route...
Oh, what luck! There's a staircase! And it leads to an opening, at that! Choosing to ignore the danger of automated laser fire altogether, Gogo marched eagerly into the ingress and up the polished stone escalier until they reached what appeared to be an etching of some caliber, angles and lines forming something akin to a diagram or blueprint of this place. It wasn't difficult to ascertain that specific markers attached to these carvings denoted Gogo's current location, and how to reach a doorway further into the complex.
Erring on the side of caution until they reached said door, Gogo crept through the halls and corridors like a skulking mouse until they came to a cubic room lined with more red laser beams, except these formed a sophisticated grid-like pattern that Gogo could tell was meant to impede movement across the chamber. Rubbing both hands together, Gogo closed their eyes, imagined what Returner Locke Cole might do in this situation, and shook their body limber.
Carefully, cautiously, ever-so-slowly, Gogo took patient steps over, under, around, and through several openings that they could perceive within the laser grid, using both hands to scoop up their clothes and pivoting where necessary to avoid tripping the figurative, and perhaps literal, wires. A single, sweeping cartwheel would clear Gogo of the trap, and allow them to move on as if they hadn't just evaded a contraption meant specifically to deter intruders.
Time passes. Gogo has kept themselves alive through sheer grit and raw ingenuity, both benefits to being so inimitably talented at the arts of duplication. And their persistence would be rewarded with a great and expansive doorway, glistening in the dim light of the facility in its towering majesty.
But how to open it?
Putting the Scorpion Tail away, Gogo simply stood there, staring at the closed portal with fearsome excitement, eager to see it pried open and its contents revealed, all while completely ignorant of the fact that someone else was already on the other side...
[attr="class","ion-heart"] I shall copy your every move.
Nobody knows exactly who, or what, Gogo really is beneath their crazy ensemble of colors and fabrics. From dead lovers and emperors to missing people, hundreds of theories revolve around the hidden identity of the famous Master Mime, yet none have successfully shed light, for Gogo eludes all explanation. What is actually known for certain is their apropos talent for the art of imitation, and that they are the ultimate apex of the craft. Transported to the mysterious dimension of Zephon following the events that took place at Kefka's Tower, Gogo has since wandered the land in search of a place where they can feel as if they truly belong.
FRIENDSHIPS I'M STICKING WITH YOU
For better or worse, Gogo is a rather impressionable character. Their talents for mimicry allows them to dramatically alter and modify their personality, and thus their whole way of being, to meet the dynamics of any group setting with nothing less than perfect harmony; they can fit any mold, or wear any face, and play the role as if it were truly second nature. Actually befriending Gogo is not a difficult endeavor, provided the subject in question piques their curiosity enough to warrant them shadowing their every movement as per their habit of duplicating anything that strikes their fancy. Extended isolation within the Zone Eater's belly has all but rendered Gogo desperate for companionship, and they will follow just about anyone if it means Gogo shall be remembered and appreciated.
HATESHIPS BECAUSE I'M MADE OUT OF GLUE
Gogo's compulsive habit of imitating people is liable to attract aggression from people that do not show an appreciation for the mimic's reflective disposition; choosing to hate Gogo will invariably cause them to hate the other person in respect, although the exact nature and length of this grudge will only go as far as the other person is willing to carry it.
LOVESHIPS ANYTHING THAT YOU MIGHT DO
Is it possible for a mimic to feel love? That is a question for the ages, as Gogo's reflective character leaves many possibilities available with regards to the realms of romance and affection. Theoretically, Gogo could demonstrate a capacity to display affection, but much could also be said about the truthfulness of these feelings, as Gogo is also compelled to duplicate the emotions felt by others. Some might even speculate that only the act of mimicry itself is Gogo's true love, and that all efforts to imitate another person is their way of expressing it.
SPELLS & ABILITIES I'M GONNA DO, TOO
COMMAND ABILITY: MIMIC[break] Allows Gogo to copy the last ability used by any party member, permitting duplication of any spell, Lore, or Esper summon without the consuming any MP whatsoever, as well as the use of any item or the Throw command without reducing inventory stock. Copying the Gil Toss command will still expend funds, however, and mimicking Gau's Rage or Mog's Dance commands will still cause Gogo to enter an uncontrollable state in the same way.[break][break]
In the case of Mog's Dance command, if Mog should stumble during an attempt, Gogo can potentially succeed in their own; a successful Dance changes the surrounding terrain to match the context of the Dance used, so if Mog succeeds and Gogo tries to copy him, they will also succeed by virtue of Mog's own efforts, as the terrain becomes the Dance's native landscape.[break][break]
Gogo cannot mimic Desperation Attacks or similar finishing moves. If they attempt to copy such a technique, or uses Mimic when no one else has taken an action, Gogo will instead opt to attack an enemy normally. They can imitate a previously copied command again, provided no one else has acted after Gogo's previous turn—this could potentially allow Gogo to summon Espers indefinitely with continuous duplication, for example, however the Master Mime refuses to exploit their powers in so petty a way.[break][break]
UNIQUE ABILITY: SIMULACRUM[break] Not a power or technique, but a quality inherent to Gogo's unique existence as the undisputed Master of Mimicry. Aside from his own command ability, Gogo can equip up to three extra command abilities usable by other party members, with the sole exception being Terra's Trance ability. If a character equips a relic that changes the ability to something else, it will also reflect itself in Gogo's repertoire, as well. When equipping the Magic command, Gogo gains access to any and every spell that has been learned by at least one other member of the active party.[break][break]
DESPERATION ATTACK: PUNISHING METEOR[break] Gogo raises their hand to the sky and calls forth an enormous meteor from space to descend upon a single enemy, inflicting non-elemental magical damage. According to some rumors, this maneuver is a perfect counter against certain types of enemies that do not appreciate the subtleties of mimicry, but others suggest that Gogo deploys it against foes that fail to meet their standards in a test of replication.
Studious eyes scan the environment for landmarks, points of interest, anything exclusive or unusual that stood out amidst the rolling plains of grass and earth. Next to the oddly-dressed mime, however, only the effervescent light pouring from the cracks in the ground seemed unique here. Gogo sighed, recalling that briefest of time spent in Aljana. It seemed that, no matter where they went, whether there were people around or not, the mimic could not find a place to fit in.
What utter poppycock! Gogo scoffed aloud. "This one bets that Fran has already forgotten about Gogo," they said, intoned with a mixture of both despondency and frustration. Thinking back on their encounter, yes, she might have sprung the esteemed master of duplication out of potentially everlasting incarceration, but she had clearly found Gogo too eccentric to put up with for more than several minutes at a time. Gogo would know; copying others is their specialty! "This one also bets that their friends have forgotten them, too! Why, Gogo is probably an afterthought to them! Oh!" They just let him fall into that chasm as the Tower fell, even! By this point, purest anger at the possibility of being a footnote in the lives of other people had overtaken the mime. They threw both arms up, exasperated, "This one bets all the gil in the world that nobody would mourn Gogo if they died!"
A voice suddenly pierces through the imitator's veil of rage, causing Gogo to blink in disbelief. "Ah?" Someone else was here, in this fieldscape of desolation? Just hearing the new presence had all but erased whatever vexation they felt in the moment, for it meant that somebody had noticed them; more importantly, they wished to engage! How delightful!
Before Gogo could acclimate themselves to the newcomer and their location, the voice had suddenly begun shouting for them to start running, and with extreme haste, because something was...behind them? Just as soon as Gogo tried to swivel on their heels, hoping to see what the new presence was talking about, an enormous shadowy form began barreling its way towards the master mime.
There was hardly any time to react. Eyes both wide as saucers, Gogo yelped as they, out of purest reflex, bent themselves backwards like an amorphous flan as the gargantuan creature rushed forward and leapt with massive claws outstretched, just barely missing the multi-colored one as it skidded to a lumbering halt; Gogo was careful enough to throw both hands up above their head as they approached the ground, although now they were left even more vulnerable than before, and with a full view of the monster that was now sizing up its prey.
Large and purple, with horns that could gore several cattle in a single blow, with claws like spears and fangs like swords dripping with purest malice. Shocks of orange fur traveled from head to tail, which swayed and beat the ground in a display of menace. And its eyes, red like the blood it wished to spill, were dead set on Gogo.
"Aaaiiiieeee!!!" The mime shrieked loud in horror, scrambling to both feet as the mighty beast let out a commanding roar that served to properly motivate Gogo into running as fast as their legs could carry them. In the process of running away from the now-pursuant creature, another man in the distance stood out among the weeds and rocks, carrying what looked like a spear. Waving back at them frantically, Gogo shouted out, "Help!! Help!! For all that's holy and pure, please!!!"
Being digested by another monster. Is this how the famous Gogo meets their end?
All art is but imitation of nature, or so the old saying goes. It was a maxim that Gogo, the master of mimicry, found much truth in. The people of Aljana, however? They were not so keen to open their doors to someone as eccentric and singular as the many-colored one, valuable as their talents in the art of duplication were. Some folks were just intolerant of people with anxiety, and would rather they put their nervous energy to better use.
Thus, Gogo had done just that, by vowing never to return back again. If their idea of 'first response' involved putting distressed people behind bars, then it was nowhere close to being as hospitable as others might advertise it to be.
...Although it would have been especially helpful if they had found some kind of aid to help them navigate this alien world. Gogo figured it would be worth the risk to brave the dangers alone, if it also meant being more selective with the kind of company they kept henceforth. If nothing else, Fran's earlier influence had left an indelible mark on Gogo's ability to tackle the issue of being stranded in a brand-new world.
So on, they would walk, until it felt like days had passed since leaving Aljana. To better understand their surroundings, the mimic did what they did best: Gogo copied the world herself. Wherever there were animals, Gogo would imitate their movements and patterns, acting as they did to learn the locations of edible food and potable water. Copying the plants took a little more effort, but in doing so, Gogo could learn how they behaved in response to changes in the weather, and find appropriate shelter thereafter. The further they traveled, the more they learned, and in the span of a week, it would seem as if Gogo may as well have lived in the wilderness for most of their life. Nature yields to those who respect her power.
As the days elapsed, the landscape would slowly shift and morph to accommodate the change in distance, as sand slowly gave way to wet grasses and soft patches of dirt, until the dunes of the desert were completely behind Gogo in full. The temperature seemed far more hospitable, as well, and actually felt cool and refreshing at points. When the fields began to turn into valleys and hills, an additional feature became more prevalent the further Gogo ventured: open cracks in the ground, brimming with mysterious light. How exciting!
And yet, it also seemed rather lonely in this place, Gogo thought.
However, a looming presence over the horizon, dark and massive, kept low as it stalked the unknowing solitary traveler, ready to prove them dreadfully wrong.
So, equity was Fran's reasoning for springing Gogo out of indefinite imprisonment? A woman of her poise certainly did not seem the kind to just 'help someone out', even if there was nothing to gain from it. Her own admission was enough for the mime to ascertain that she, herself, must have felt the cruelty of cold iron chains at one point in her life.
Of course, when she further explained that she had also planned on freeing Gogo through illegal channels, as evidenced by the additional satchel at her hip, the oddly-dressed imitator could not help but wonder still if Fran was attempting some kind of long con.
Perhaps it was not the wisest course of action to look gift chocobos down their beaks, as the old saying goes. Gogo was being given a new lease on their arrival in this foreign realm; what they chose to do with this life was, wholly, up to them.
Being told to lay low and avoid drawing attention, Gogo could not help but let out a hearty guffaw. "Gogo is a walking rainbow that will surely not be appreciated here! Gogo shall do as the guard instructs and forever leave this city behind," admitted the mime, full of renewed vigor and certitude in their decision. Fran would pay their choice no heed, as was determined by their earlier interaction mere moments before this fiasco took place.
"You give Gogo much to contemplate, Fran. This mime expresses gratitude for your kindness," said Gogo, bowing in courtesy before the rabbit-eared woman before turning to depart for the city gates. "May you find your friends, and your place, in this world." Beneath their many shawls and drapes, Gogo smiled at Fran, certain their paths would cross once more.
No longer paralyzed with fear of the unknown, Gogo took several steps into the swelling crowd of people. And for the briefest of seconds, if she happened to be observant enough, their form appeared to be a perfect duplicate of Fran's own body, until the moving throngs caused the apparent doppelgänger to vanish out of sight entirely, supposedly never to be seen again.
Statuesque and immobile, Gogo studied the contents of the inner chamber with hawkish intensity, absorbing every piece of information their eyes could scrape up. It would seem that the people of this strange realm used hourglasses and sundials in lieu of other time-telling devices, the mimic speculated, counting approximately thirty minutes since they were first deposited in this gaol.
Just as they were getting comfortable with these new surroundings, a voice now familiar to Gogo reached their ears from outside the structure walls. It was Fran! Quite fortuitous, it was, for her to have witnessed their incarceration mere moments earlier. And here, Gogo was certain that they would not see each other again!
But nothing happened. When the talking outside had died down, excitement shortly gave way to confusion as Gogo wondered where Fran had gone off to. Was she really trying to help, or had curiosity merely been the pretense for her appearance here?
Before Gogo could even so much as form a question to ask, in struts Fran herself, lithe and beautiful, accompanied by one of the men initially responsible for incarcerating the strange one. Unbeknownst to the poor fellow, however, the rabbit-eared woman appeared to be carrying something extra on her figure.
The iron key is inserted into the lock, twisted, and the metal gate keeping Gogo separate from the world is swung wide open, with Fran being the one to usher them into it. However, Gogo did not budge, to the complete annoyance of the guard beside Fran, and most likely to her's, especially after all the trouble she went through to achieve this objective.
"I knew this was gonna happen..." the guard complained, rolling his eyes at the eccentric one before turning to Fran, "Look, they're not breaking any laws here, but we can't just have them being a nuisance." He then turned to the mimic with a bemused expression. "Y'hear that? You gotta do something around here, anything, or we're gonna have to ask you to leave Aljana."
So, this was Gogo's ultimatum, eh? Become a contributor towards a people who viewed them as a pest, or face exile? What kind of hospitality was this? The insinuation alone was enough to insult the famed mimic into an audible scoff of contempt for the man!
Although they had much reason to be thankful to Fran for her aid in this matter, Gogo felt no such obligation to be grateful to the city watch, as they would demonstrate by 'accidentally' stepping into the guard's armored shoe. "My apologies, there seems to be some trash in the way." Gogo paid their anger no mind as they slipped past the guard, out of the gaol doors, and back into Aljana proper.
"What is your angle, Fran?" asked Gogo, presuming the rabbit-eared woman was following closely by. They would not take up too much of her time, of course, but given that she had gone out of her way to free him from imprisonment, there had to be a reason for it. "Gogo will not be of much use to you, if it is a debt you are after. No money." They flipped through their robes with scattered fingers, emphasizing their absence of funds.
Much could be remarked about Gogo, master of mimicry, though nothing seemed to grab as much attention from the people of Aljana than their complete immobility and apparent refusal to behave in a typical fashion. As one woman discovered mere moments ago, Gogo was everything but typical.
However, standing in the middle of the bazaar as if the flow of time itself failed to move them forward causes problems, especially among certain castes of people possessed of more entitled perspectives of the world and how it works.
These were the people who had influence, the ability to guide and steer the course of events toward their own ends. And Gogo's anxiety toward the world was not interpreted as such, but rather as a nuisance that must be cleared from the streets.
The guards are summoned to contend with the strangely dressed mime, who remained firmly planted where they stood, speechless and unblinking. One of the armored men wave a hand before their face, only to pull it back when Gogo failed to do even so much as twitch a finger.
Then, an attempt was made to unmask the great mimic. Failure would greet them here, as well, for Gogo's shawl appeared to consciously defy their every effort to have it removed from the mysterious one's face. Just what was this person?
Ten minutes of fruitless interrogation yielded the city watch nothing but mounting frustration, as Gogo was not technically in violation of any laws that were on record, however it was an issue of common sense that they could not simply be permitted to remain fixed where they stood, taking up space and being a public nuisance, and the complete lack of communication did nothing but exacerbate their predicament.
Unable to allow them free leave to do...nothing, apparently, one of the guards lifted a hand up and traced it through the air, causing a screen of oscillating arcane light to erupt from beneath Gogo's feet until their entire body lifted up off the ground by several inches, courtesy of a Float spell. It was the only way to get this weirdo to move.
Without further deliberation, the guards would gently push the levitating mime along the streets of Aljana, giving the strange one a closer view of the city; even as their eyes lay perfectly still, everything that fell into their view could now be recalled with total clarity at a later point. It would help the mime to navigate this place more efficiently, when the guards inevitably decide to release them from custody. They were committing no crimes; there was no reason to incarcerate someone with crippling anxiety, for goodness's sake!
Until then, Gogo continued to remain motionless as death, permitting the men to do their job and direct them to the nearest barracks, where they were summarily deposited into one of the many open cells inside until the Float spell had finally wore off, setting Gogo down gently against the sandstone floor.
There, they would remain, until they were processed and sent on their way, or until somebody else offered to pass the time with them. From the way things appeared, there weren't many people being detained. Probably a side effect of good policy on behalf of this city's government structure, Gogo surmised.
Beneath their multicolored wrappings, Gogo let off a faint smile at Fran's endeavor towards kindness. Gogo believed there was value to imitation, otherwise they would never have chosen to pursue this path. For what it was worth, Fran had succeeded in providing the world's most peerless mimic with something they desperately needed, more than anything else: a reason to move forward in the face of uncertainty.
Would they run into some companions in this new, unfamiliar plane of reality? Who could say where the road goes, or where the wind blows? Only time. Of course, Gogo could not speak on behalf of other people, and their anxieties surrounding the inherent value of mimicry in the perspective of others still remained very much real in the back of their mind.
Still, it was rude to keep someone from attending to their own affairs. "Then Gogo bids Fran farewell, until once more, our paths intersect," replied the mime in their usual-yet-unusual cadence, offering the rabbit-eared lady one final spin and bow until she took the initiative to leave for other objectives.
Of course, by the time this happened, Gogo would be forced to think of the initial problem at hand: what do they do next? The vastness of this issue, and the lack of a clear directive to follow – aside from the one Fran had suggested – had all but totally paralyzed the mime with indecisiveness once again, rooting them to the spot they awoke upon. The people of Aljana merely passed them by, without paying any regards to their presence or mental state, treating them as an ornament of their own surroundings.
It wouldn't be long before the guards were summoned to contend with the issue.
