TDM + GAME OPENING 🎉

[beleos]

Who: Shard-Bearers, new and old
What: Seeds take root
Where: The Tree of Life, Highstorm, Springstar
When: October 14th and onwards
Warnings: Potential for (mild) body horror, death, dismemberment

I. BEARING FRUIT (new characters only)

It starts out as a pleasant dream. You’re in your favorite place, with your favorite people. It’s a moment of idyllic comfort.

And then, it goes wrong.

The sky turns dark above, and as you look up, you see the black expanse of space spotted with faraway pinprick lights of stars. Yet, they’re not stars. You’re certain. They’re watching you. A billion eyes all looking down, and they spill forth as if sky itself was a dam holding back those dark waters. You reach back to the people you’re with, but they’re frozen in place. Their eyes are black, reflecting only the expanse of dark eyes.

So you run, even though you know you won’t escape it. You glance back and see it not overtaking, but consuming. The landscape around you is being devoured, and you can see it cracking apart. The world itself is breaking, and it cracks under your feet. You fall, and the billion eyes chase after you until the darkness swallows you whole. There’s agony as if you’re being ripped apart, and then—

You cannot see. You cannot feel. You simply are. Yet even so, impossibly, a woman’s voice speaks gently.

I’m sorry it couldn’t be saved. But, come, it’s time to wake.

You wake with a start, cradled by soft, velvety plants, and sticky with a sap that smells faintly of honey and iron. You can see the veins of the leaves that hold you, lit warmly and gently by what looks like a crystal embedded above you. Yet, it’s odd, because that crystal calls to you. When you reach out to touch it, it’s warm. Familiar. Important. You don’t know why, but you know you must hold onto this, because now it feels wrong for it to be suspended in these leaves. So, you pull it out.

The light starts to fade, but only in time to see as the leaves cradling you immediately start to soften and crumble, and with it comes a torrent of dirt. Soft, loamy soil starts to fill the space around you in the dark as you’re buried. Or, rather, you already were. You reach out through the dirt desperately, and your hands finds a root, so you pull while you clutch that precious crystal so close that it almost feels like it sinks into you (in your panic, you don’t notice that it does). You reach out again, and this time, your hand hits open air and plenty of sturdy roots around to grab.

From a seed you’re born, and like a sprout, you make your way out of the ground.

And once you’ve clawed your way out of the soft earth and the roots, nearby, you see the soil shift. Another hand comes up to grasp desperately for something, anything, just as you had been.

II. MORAL HAZARD

There are new Shard-Bearers at the Tree of Life, and Yima has asked that the earlier arrivals go to greet them and help them. These aren’t people from Horos, after all, so they’ll have many, many questions. As Yima explains, the roots of the tree rise up to create caverns underneath, and it’s there you’ll find the new Shard-Bearers. And indeed, with careful steps to not slip on the mossy roots, down you go. Perhaps Communion will help you find the new Shard-Bearers, but it might be a confusing process for them.

The roots all start to look the same, to the point that you’re sure that you’ve already been through this passage. You turn around, and most of the people you had come here with are gone, if not all of them. It’s confusing and unsettling, and strangest of all.. You’re starting to feel ill, even if that wasn’t something normally possible for you. But continuing forward, you do eventually find an unfamiliar face of a new Shard-Bearer. They look no better than you feel.

Before introductions, however, roots around you shift suddenly until you’re enclosed in a room together. From the roots, a face forms in the wall. It speaks in a creaking, uneven tone, as if it weren’t used to speaking at all.

Give to take. A sacrifice. To live.

---

LET'S PLAY A GAME...

As the Dryad will explain, characters are now trapped in a room and have been poisoned by the spores that the lichens underfoot release. An antidote lays beyond the roots the dryad has curled around you, but to access it, you must make a sacrifice.

Characters can pick one of the following options, but the decision must be made unanimously. If one character takes a drastic action (such as murdering another), it’s counted as a failure for the group.

• Each of you must offer up a personal/treasured memory. The memory will be shared in Communion with all characters assembled, and then will be destroyed. No character will retain the memory or memory of its Communion.
• Each of you must offer up something physical. A finger, a toe, an ear, it’s your choice. The dryad will offer a knife if this is chosen that will sever the body part of choice cleanly and immediately stop any bleeding.
• Offer up another. Kill one person in the room.
• Refusing is also a valid option. Characters will get more ill as they debate until they start to find it difficult to breathe, and they’ll die quickly after.

The following is OOC knowledge that will not be known IC: The consequences of this game are about intent, and thus are not real. When characters are freed from the tree’s thrall, they’ll have their memories/body parts/life intact.

This can be done in groups of 2 to 4 players, and Loremasters recommend three if you can swing it! It’s more fun when you get in philosophical debates, right? Regardless, when your group comes to a decision, please record it here. These don’t have to be fully threaded out to be recorded, so the conclusion can be discussed OOC if you prefer. Actions can be submitted until October 21st, after which groups will be informed of what comes of their choice…

When a group receives the antidote, they'll be released from the tree's thrall... But will have a hard time waking up. It feels like something has grabbed onto their spine.

III. DREAMING OF HOME

You may wake with a start from your deliberations (or arguments) with a jolt of pain from the base of your spine as something is pulled away rapidly. A dark-haired man who looks to be in his thirties or so holds you carefully, but as soon as you start to regain your senses, he sets you back and holds up his hands.

Woah— Woah there, it’s fine! The tree was, uh, trying to take you back is all. You’re fine now.

As long as you’re not going to attack him, he offers a friendly smile and a hand to shake.

Name’s Cyrus. Sorry about the rude awakening. Let’s get your friend here unhooked too.

And indeed, glancing over, you can see the person you met in that room laying nearby, and it looks like a vine has snaked underneath them to exactly where something had just been pulled from you… Best not to think about it, maybe. Or if you've been unlucky enough to be one of the last people rescued, you might find vines and roots starting to grow into your skin. It's fine!

---

CYRUS, THE TRIBUNE

Cyrus is the NPC heading up the Meridian Faction, and is available to thread with under this header. Cyrus has come to the Tree of Life to help rescue the Shard-Bearer’s from the Tree, so he’s not going to be inclined to explain too much right away, since he’s on a mission, but he’ll stick around once everyone is successfully freed from Prompt 2 to speak with anyone that wants to. The following is just an OOC summary of information in case you do not need to thread with Cyrus:

Cyrus will gladly introduce himself to everyone, and will further explain his position in Meridian and Springstar (see the NPC Page) and the goals of Meridian itself (see the Faction Page, save for the italicized section). But most importantly, he’ll explain that he knows it sounds like something overly optimistic. It’s fair to be skeptical. He’ll produce a small glass bead from a bag he’s carrying. It looks like the necklace he wears, though not lit up. He’ll explain that the force of Meridian is a gift and can be a tether to your home, if you let it. As his fingertips light up, the energy is infused into the bead, which he’ll hand to you.

Taking the bead into your hands, you’ll take a bird’s eye view of your home world as if your consciousness is split, since you’ll still perceive standing in front of Cyrus at the tree. Rather than a vision, the view of your world is absolutely real, you’re certain. It’s a glimpse at the world that you thought destroyed, and if you focus on a particular place or a particular person, you’ll find the view shifting rapidly to it. No one you watch is aware of your presence, but simply continues about their daily life, whatever that is. But after about a minute, the view will fade as the light in the bead also fades.

That’s an iliachtida, a sunbeam, and when infused with Meridian’s light, allows someone Harmonized to it to check in on their world, he explains. It also acts as an anchor that tethers their soul to their world in the Timestream. With it, their world can’t entirely disappear, so eventually, they can go home. It’s a gift he’ll allow anyone that wants it to keep it, but indeed, they’ll be unable to use it again without first Harmonizing to Meridian.

To help manage threadload for the Loremasters playing Cyrus, we ask that you only tag him with the character you are most likely to app. Similarly, new tag-ins will not be accepted after Monday, October 17th.

III. SPRINGSTAR, αιώνιος ήλιος

After your ordeals at the Tree of Life, perhaps you’re drawn to Springstar, the city of eternal sun and the seat of Meridian.

It’s currently (and fittingly) Spring in Springstar, and the bustling city is coming back to life after finishing up winter. It’s not as if the winters are especially harsh here, but you’ll quickly get the sense that the people of Springstar are vivacious and happy to celebrate. You’ll find the Entertainment District to be the liveliest, whether it’s at a rowdy bar or a brothel, but no matter what, you’re welcome with open arms and without question.

Of course, if you’d just like to use the chance to explore the city alongside your fellow Shard-Bearers, that’s fine too. It’s easy to get lost in the crowds of Springstar and see all the city has to offer.

IV. HIGHSTORM, луны-близнецы

Or maybe Highstorm, the city of twin moons and the seat of Zenith is more to your liking. It’s certainly the quieter of the two cities and is a relaxing, meditative place if that’s what you prefer. The chill in the air is constant, since it’s Autumn in Highstorm and the eternal night doesn’t help keep things warm, exactly. Snow isn’t out of the question at this time of the year, but it’s beautiful in the moonlight.

Because of the cooler weather than Highstorm is prone to, you’ll find many of its delights inside rather than outside. Libraries and museums are popular in the more introspective city, though it’s easy enough to find something that might please you. For example, the indoor hot baths are popular at this time of the year too. You’ll find the people are kind, if cool-tempered, though if you mention the fact that you’re a Shard-Bearer or allied with Zenith, they’re more likely to warm up.

Though much like Springstar, it may just be more interesting to explore the city with a fellow Shard-Bearer. And as a resident may warn you, it’s best to stay in the city. Wandering out into the marshes and forests isn’t advised. Of course, if you do, just contact a Loremaster to find out why. ♥

NOTES

Welcome to Kenos! As a reminder, all players are required to fill out an application, which are now open. This does include characters/players from Aion Teleos, so please don’t forget to fill one out! Any character/player that does not submit an application will be swept from the communities and the Discord after applications close.

Activity Check is optional this month, but is highly recommend so Christy can check her fancy program so that you can earn Activity Reward Tokens! Activity will be able to be submitted shortly after applications close. You can find more about how we do AC here.

This log is Game Canon. Any characters who are not apped to the game will disappear. If Cyrus or Yima are asked, they’ll explain that this happens sometimes, since not every soul has a strong tether to Kenos and sometimes return to the Timestream. They’re fine and may even return to Kenos one day, but for now weren’t able to make the full journey.

As a reminder, your character has a Shard somewhere on their body that encompasses their soul, so keep note of where you're sticking it on their person for reference! Additionally, they have a tattoo of their Aspect somewhere on their body. Please be mindful this Aspect will be assigned to you upon approval and whatever you choose for the TDM may be temporary (for new characters)!

For the Highstorm and Springstar prompts, both cities will be fully open and accessible to all characters once they are saved from their rather harrowing ordeal at the Tree of Life. For prompt ideas and any general information about the cities and what you can find there, please see the Navigation page and check out the locations!

FOR NEW PLAYERS:

New players are welcome to join our Discord Server if you haven't already!

When they emerge from their cocoon/the ground, characters may be wearing their normal clothes, or they might be nude. Up to you!

At some point in the days after leaving the Tree of Life, new Shard-Bearers will have a dream, even if they're usually not capable of sleeping. All new players should read this post, since this details how they'll learn about both factions and their goals and should help them make a decision in which Faction they'd be drawn to.

New characters will not have access to any canon abilities on the TDM.

Your character will be offered temporary housing either at the Heliopolis district or Yima's manor for the first few weeks after their arrival. They will also be given a stipend for basic supplies like clothing and personal effects, and food is served in the cantina (Heliopolis) and at regular meal times in the Dining Room (Yima's manor). Once they Harmonize, they will get personal permanent chambers and a fancy retainer in their Faction's city. Wow! 🌈

FOR OLD PLAYERS:

Characters may be Harmonized to their Faction (if that makes sense for the character, of course!) by the time of this log. This is more for IC reference, and just wait until application acceptance to do the OOC paperwork!

General reminder that your character won't have access to their powers until they have Harmonized.

CODING

Comments

HAYAME (JINBA) ➳ ICONOCLAST

[warmare]

(cw: usual JINBA warnings, eye injuries)

01 ↣ TREE OF LIFE (MORAL HAZARD) ↣ 生命の樹の下
OOC Note: Please touch base using contact detailed below before tagging! I'm open to newbies and oldbies alike but would prefer to decide the "loss" in advance! Thanks!

[Rebirth into yet another world she had never asked to exist had been hard on Hayame. Not just mentally, though her capacities there were indeed strained close to breaking, but physically as well. The crack across her shard had left her weak and disoriented, and after being soothed (robbed) of her rage and desperation in the arms of the woman called Yima, she had not been able to push herself past her limits. She had been forced into convalescence... and only recently regained her strength, just in time to join the others who venture into the labyrinth of roots beneath the tree in search of the newly arrived.

She does not go because she trusts that woman. No, she doesn't trust her at all. She goes because a pathetic part of her still hopes to encounter someone who looks like her... and because she must leave that place. She already is sure that she will not return, but on the way... She wants to see where she had supposedly come from. What mechanism had purportedly brought her kicking and screaming into another world not her own.

Instead... The deeper she goes searching into the mossy labyrinth for people she knows would be unfortunate to have the first face they see be hers... the more sick she begins to feel. Without her realizing, the others Yima had "selected" fade away down other paths and into the moss, and when the roots suddenly shift, too fast for her to prevent being trapped in the living-wood prison... There is a centaur woman staring at you from across the small space, one dark eye an angry pinprick, the other an eerie, empty space covered haphazardly by a thin cloth.]

02 ↣ SPRINGSTAR (EXPLORATION) ↣ 太陽の国

[Her search for answers and somewhere that doesn't make her skin crawl first begins in the land of Meridian. The land is bright, and full of... of life, of color, so much so that after the dark of her recovery ward in Yima's manor that she almost squints against the glare of the sun(s). But at least... unlike Horos, where she had stood out like a sore thumb (or, you know, like a centaur) in a sea of two-legged humans... there is at least far more variety in residents of this place. She can walk through the streets without being gawked at, she can blend in with the rest. So for just a little while... She gladly does.]

A. EMPORIO ↣ 失われた目
[The district of commerce is where she ends up. There is a certain problem she has with a relatively simply solution that she simply has not yet had the time nor the wherewithal to address. It takes her some time and asking, but eventually she locates a shop that seems to be run by a collection of tanners and leatherworkers. Various wars are hung and displayed out front of the workshop, including an example of what she's looking for...

The problem is, the shop is located at the mouth of one of the many shop-lined alleys that make up the district, and... her large body is blocking most of the entrance to the street. Her hair obscures why (an empty hole where a left eye used to be), but she doesn't seem to have noticed that there's someone trying to pass her or getting agitated with her presence as she flips between samples of leather on display for customers to choose from. A simple tawny color... a dark textured color... a silky smooth white...

You might have to say something or shove past her.]

B. AKADIMAÏKOS ↣ 失われた聖典
[She might can blend with the general populace a bit better in this world, but she definitely doesn't look like she belongs in the Academic District. Even if her form was a bit too large to navigate easily between stacks of books, there's just something distinctly uncomfortable about her body language that all but radiates off her, advertising that though no one has likely told her so... she doesn't feel like she should be here. And, mistaking someone looking through the books at one of the many libraries as some sort of staff... She clears her throat loudly.]

The Order of Numbers.

[Hayame is an intimidating woman, at over seven feet in height and half a ton in perfectly honed muscle. But she looks... embarrassed, almost, or ashamed, to be in this place and be asking what she is. She'd been told the chances might be slim, but that books from all worlds and recorded by people of many lands could be found here, so--]

Do you have it?

03 ↣ HIGHSTORM (EXPLORATION) ↣ 月光の国

[Hayame's time in Springstar doesn't provide her with what she's seeking. She doesn't know herself what it even is, any longer, but... She has to keep looking. Though she had no desire to return to the manor of the woman called Yima, unsettled by her abilities and distrusting of her motives in sending them to the depths of the tree and the dangerous clutch of the dryad who had appeared there... She does return to Highstorm, and the eerie eternal dark. At least here... there are less people. There are more trees and grasses and flowering plants beneath her hooves.]

A. ANTIQUES & BAUBLES MARKET ↣ 欲の匂い
[The more settled of the shard-bearers who had arrived from Horos might already have coin to their name... Maybe a clever or particularly logical new arrival has already secured funds somehow, even. But Hayame certainly is not among either of their numbers. Her mind has been occupied with far more important things than money or food, and yet...

Though she can't recall when she ate last, her body certainly can. The delicious aroma of meat and bread wafting from a stall fills her senses, it's enough to make her stop in the middle of the street and lift her head from her nearly-all-consuming thoughts... and her stomach rumbles so loudly than anyone in the vicinity would be able to hear. ... Actually, there's two separate sorts of noises.

Both of her stomachs are rumblings.]

B. FIELDS OF FANTASIA ↣ 失意の匂い
[It isn't quite the sort of natural place that she craves. There are no mountains to hide in, no moss-covered stone, no roaring waterfalls or ancient trees... But it is better than nothing. Maybe it's beautiful. If Matsukaze were here... he would surely know what those flowers were, how they could be used, if they could be eaten or made into medicine... and if he did not, she thinks- He would just ask someone, like the gardeners who bother her constantly and try to tell her that she shouldn't spend so much time amongst the blooms.

Hayame ignores them. She clutches a bead in her hand and is afraid to look at it. She longs for a bow or a blade to put in her hand. She doesn't know what to do. And at some point... she just lays down and doesn't seem to get up. She doesn't know why. A jinba was vulnerable on their belly, slower to rise and defend themselves, their own weight eventually a heavy burden on their organs, and yet... There's something on the edge of her senses, a sense of a sound that calls out to her...

Two local men on the edge of the field can be overheard discussing amongst themselves what is to be done about "the horse woman" half-hidden amidst the mysterious purple blooms. She doesn't seem to be heeding their advice, and it's not like they can drag her...]

04 ↣ WILDCARD ↣ 鬼札

[Hit up my CR Meme/send a PM/hit me up at stormcoming/ping me in the Discord chat if you'd prefer a custom starter or want to discuss a specific thread you'd like to do! ❤️]

01 and fair warning to anyone else this is going to be a nasty thread <3

[cutlery]

[ They certainly weren’t walking together, that much is certain. It’s more than circumstance had both led them down to the same area, and perhaps for a moment before the roots closed in, they both had a moment’s realization that they were face to face with a problem. Sebastian certainly did.

Horos was simply an exception to his usual rule, and in Kenos, he was trying to correct it. There was not a war here where his viciousness was a valuable asset. So far, it seemed this was a place where the polite, unassuming butler would thrive. A gentle hand and a gentle touch would bring about the desired result. But even in his short time in Horos, his actions weren’t forgotten, and much less by the woman that had received the most ruthless of them.

…But here in the roots (in a dream), he didn’t have the power that allowed him to overtake her with relative ease. The Dryad speaks its instructions, but Sebastian is ignoring them. His expression is immediately cold and cruel, and very much the sort that he only ever revealed before he killed someone. It’s more instinct than anything else, because he’s well aware that while confined to a human form, he’s outclassed compared to her. ]

My, my. We really must stop meeting like this, Miss Hayame.

[ He knows enough of her character to know that a confrontation was unavoidable, that smooth, sly words wouldn’t soothe her. It’s probably because he knows that he leans towards his nature rather than away from it. He takes a smooth step to the side, but it’s to keep distance between them. As if there was much to be had. But his cruel smile is mocking, because even if this is very much a situation not in his favor, he’ll at least provoke her and bring out the worst he can. That is his nature, after all. ]

I suppose you would be so willing to let bygones be bygones…?

♫ tonight, i'm living in a fantasy, my own little nasty world

[warmare]

[There are things about her time in Horos that Hayame does not properly remember. It had been explained to her in the manor of that woman Yima, in between the purge of fever and the dark embrace of unconsciousness she slipped in and out of during her recovery, that there had been some damage to her shard in the process of pulling her soul from one world to another... But that did nothing to assuage the disconcerting feeling that came with knowing that something should be there, that perhaps someone should be there... and it just wasn't. She remembers a raid, the blood, the rage, the despair, she remembers some of the faces of the men she had fought, but as the day wore on her memories blurred and failed her.

The demon who had plucked her left eye from her skull and left only a raw, weeping socket behind, however... Him, she remembers, as the last face she had seen with the perfect vision that made her so deadly an archer.

There is a moment, just before the roots close them in, when he comes into her now limited field of view and the recognition flashes blatantly over her face. The sight, the smell, the sound of him, every bit of it fills her senses... and a chaotic jumble of images come rushing back. Blood, blood raining from the sky. The bite of a pale scale in her hand. The feeling of her two hearts strained to their limit as she ran and ran and ran towards a goal she failed to reach. The sensation of pain without physical injury, of a shard dimming in her hand...]

You-

[The dryad is talking, and she hears it, but she also does not.

The demon is talking, and she hears it, but she also does not.

Her blood is boiling in her ears. If her nails weren't cut to the quick, they'd be digging blood crescents into her palm. The one pupil left to her dilates and contracts as her mind switches rapidly between the man in front of her and the man in her memories. She smells smoke and dust in the air. Her enemy is there, whichever reality she falls into. He's smiling, like he'd smiled then, smug and cruel and self-assured that she was nothing to him. Like he had when he'd jumped out of reach and looked down at her, her perfectly intact eyeball danging by the ripped optic nerve from his wet fingers.

Hayame's teeth grit, the muscles along her jaw clench, her throat bobs as if attempting and realizing that speech in that moment is impossible-



Before she suddenly lunges across the confined space of their root-made cage, giving him all of two seconds to react before a half ton of muscle and rage slams into the space he now occupies.]

[cutlery]

[ As her rage boils forth, Sebastian delights to see it just as openly. It’s more imagined than a reality, but he can nearly taste it on the air, and it’s a delicious thing. He laughs for the thought of it, but it’s also partially a recognition that this will go poorly for him. ]

Good.

[ It’s just one word said simply to her recognition, but it’s dripping with the kind of vicious, hungry bloodlust that only a demon could express.

His skill is no less sharp when he’s essentially trapped in a human form like this, at least, and in her state of mind, he can ready well enough when she charges. Two seconds is plenty of time relative to that, and just when he would be in striking distance of her hooves, he darts to the side to avoid her. There’s not much room to maneuver in this cage, and though she was clearly well-trained to counteract it, she still had limitations for that equine half. Sebastian’s hand goes to the breast pocket of his jacket where he’d hidden a weapon (just in case, of course), but finds it missing. Without missing a beat, he grabs at a root he looks like he can break instead. It’s not the best of improvised weapons, but it’ll have to do.

With a snap that’s only prevented from cutting into his hands by his leather gloves, he turns to face Hayame with the root readied like it was a stake, but it’s probably time enough for her to have begun to reclose that short gap between them. He wouldn’t be able to avoid her, so he’ll at least face her head on and take her down along with him. Such is the hope, at least.

It might be lost to her rage, but there are still details here she might notice. For one, that dodge wasn’t nearly as impossibly fast as what she’d seen before. It’s still fast and speaks to someone as well-seasoned to battle as she, but not inhuman. Second is his eyes. They’re not a monstrous, glowing red as bright as blood. Right now, they’re just a very normal amber. ]

03A

[hauntedking]

[ Dimitri is new to all of this, still wandering in these new places and searching out different locations as if they might hide answers to the questions that burn through him. So far, he hasn't found much, though. He has seen people of all kinds and creatures out of stories. Hayame is one of those. It's hard not to see her and think of storybooks, although he tries not to stare.

It's the rumble of her stomachs that get his attention again and he looks up from his own shopping to give her a curious glance, wrapping his cloak about himself as he takes a step closer. ]

...are you alright? Because it sounds as if you haven't eaten in days.

[ For all of his fierce appearance, he's surprisingly soft-spoken. ]

a woman missing her left eye and a man missing his right walk into a market...

[warmare]

[Her new eyepatch is... itchy. She can't stop being aware of the unfamiliar straps across her face, and though she'd been assured that the edge of the portion covering the empty socket of her eye was made soft and unlikely to chafe, it still feels like it is.

But at least the accessory serves as an excuse for her to touch her face. She uses adjusting it as a cover for rubbing at her nose to try and stifle the delicious scent, embarrassed by the betrayals of her body... and even more embarrassed with a tall, foreign-looking warrior (or so she guesses) brings even further attention to it. By instinct, her muscles tighten up upon being addressed, her tail flicking out irritably behind her.]

What business is it of yours?

[... But she doesn't move, yet. It is not as starkly evident here, who among them is an aion... No, a "shard-bearer" or not. But her perhaps her response wouldn't change, no matter the answer.]

fabulous joke.

[hauntedking]

[ The eyepatch does catch his attention; the way she tries to adjust it reminds him of a time when his own was still new and it felt strange and discomforting. When it wasn't simply a part of his everyday wear. He feels a twinge of sympathy for her, even if she is rather strange to look on. ]

None, perhaps. But I was considering getting something to eat myself. Would you care to join me?

[ He's trying. ]

3b

[exhound]

[Nature on this scale is a foreign concept to Vander. Growing up in a crowded city beneath a city, where the toxic factories and mines were spread throughout, plant life isn’t something that thrived. He’s had his glimpses of it, sure, when jobs brought him skulking up to Piltover in days long past, but he’s never seen anything quite like this. It stirs up old feelings in his chest, chief among them the familiar bitterness that spurred him to action in his youth.

There would be time to ruminate on that later. For now he tamps it down and forces himself to just enjoy the sights in front of him. And its not hard to do, as awe-inspiring as the field before him is.

Vander is, unsurprisingly, not the only one enjoying the simple luxury of the flower fields. The two locals catch his attention, and he follows their gaze to something out of place amidst the field of outstretched purple. “The horse woman” as they called her—certainly a new sight to Vander, but perhaps not an entirely outlandish one. He doesn’t quite get the urgency, but he does acquiesce to at least go have a word with her at their behest. And as nice as it is to simply take a walk amongst the flowers, Vander feels a little more at ease having a purpose in a place like this.

He approaches with steps more careful than one would expect of a man his size and stature, heedful of the delicate blooms as he makes his way over to her. He comes to a halt a dozen paces away, casting his gaze across the impressive field of purple.]

Quite a place to take a rest, isn’t it, miss?

[warmare]

[At first... Hayame had simple sat down, plopping her rump down on the ground with her forelegs still held straight, adopting a posture more familiar on a canine than an equine. She had just intended to look in peace, trying to find some sort of answer to the question of what she should, would, could even do in a place like this. Soon enough... She had laid down on her belly, letting the purple blossoms begin to swallow her. Perhaps she did require more rest. She has not been sleeping or eating well since she was rebirthed into their new prison, and the lines of her withers and hips are already looking a bit sharp. As shameful as being so vulnerable was...

At some point, even her more human looking upper half had grown slack and sunk to the earth as she fully laid down, her head pillowed on her forearms. She might even be mistaken as peaceful or calm, looking like that... but even to a stranger, there might be signs something is off. She doesn't seem to respond even to the obvious sounds of being approached, not even being hailed. It isn't until far too long after his words die into the air that finally,]

I said "leave me be".

[The words are mumbled, distracted, obviously meant for the local men who she absently assumes have come to pester her again as she presses an ear to the dirt beneath her. Where was that faint, faint voice coming from... ? Was it on the wind? In the earth?

And why did it sound so sweetly, achingly familiar... ?]

2b

[leicesters]

[It wouldn't be surprising to mistake Claude for staff, standing beside a table as he is with a stack of books next to him and his nose stuck in one of them like he's looking for something. That, and his flashy gold clothing and jewellery does make him seem pretty at home in a radiant place like Springstar.

What is surprising, at least to him, is when he's addressed from behind. Something about that voice from behind is awfully familiar, itching at the back of his mind from what seems like years ago, practically another lifetime ago... And he turns to see Hayame, snapping the book shut with a slow blink of surprise.]

Oh! Well, uh. [He hides the book behind him hastily, a tome on the history of a world he's never heard of.] I might have it in my hand right now, but you'd better ask nicely to find out.

[warmare]

[It is not as easy, in this place, to tell who was an aion-- or, "shard-bearer", rather. As much as Hayame was enjoying (and refusing to acknowledge) not being gawked at so obviously wherever she walked... it also let to a sense of confusion that came with this new place, no knowing who exactly was an ally or an enemy, let alone who was "native" or "foreign"... And perhaps there were those among their number who thought of such ambiguity as a good thing, but she...

The man she has addressed pulls the book from his face and becomes more than just an impression of color and hair and jewelry, and in the book's wake... is a face that is somewhat familiar. As a consequence of the crack running through the obsidian shard hidden beneath her bindings which were hidden beneath her modest robe, her memories of her last days in Horos blurred and became unreliable, too chaotic to piece despite her efforts, and yet...

There had been someone. Someone who had helped her, when she had needed it, and spoken words that actually made sense. How and why she cannot recall, but that man's name had been... Claude. It had been Claude. Was she suddenly hallucinating, now, imagining what that man might look like in some years' time? Was her experience with foreign faces so bad that she had simply mistaken a man of similar race and build for him? Except the way he attempts to force some strange joke is also familiar... it makes her one visible eye narrow as her brow furrows, the confusion evident on her features...

She forgets to actually say anything except,]

What?

2b

[expiera]

[Closing a book she had in hand and placing it back into the shelf (there's pastries on the cover?), she looks up and blinks once. --Ah, she remembers that face. They never interacted directly back there, but Hayame had enough of a reputation to be talked about and known from Ciel's end by her previous affiliates. The centaur woman is effectively large and intimidating, which makes the contrast with her expression all the more... Hm.

It takes a beat, before she's answered with a sheepish and apologetic smile.]

Aha. I'm sorry, I'm not a worker here. But I could help you look? What's the book about?

[She offers politely, but also can't help wondering if she may be recognized. What a way to meet someone from "before"... Kenos really is a lot more relaxed to live in, hm.]

[warmare]

You...

[Once the woman she'd addressed puts her book down and turns to show her face... Hayame recognizes her. They may not have ever met on the battlefield, she may not know her name, but in a court of shadows, rage and fear warring in her hearts... Hayame had locked her eyes (she'd had two then) on every single person who called themselves Kenoma who had been present, burning their images into her mind as enemies who she would not hesitate to kill if given the chance.

On sheer muscle memory alone, before her mind can even process that this is a different world, her hand goes to her "hip"... But there is no blade there. No quiver. No bow.

Her hand slams loudly into the shelf behind the other woman's head instead, surging forward just enough to threaten to pin her between the books and the heavy muscles of her lower body, unwilling to allow her easy avenues to escape before she leans in to hiss-]

What are you playing at, Kenoma?

[As if she is is going to believe the woman might help her in her quest for the sacred book she had promised to keep safe instead of kill her?

They were enemies. (Weren't they?)]

2a (oops)

[galdorleod]

[ So commonplace are people like Hayame in Kenos that the presence of a centaur in Howl's path does not immediately remind him of the violent Aion back in Horos who so proudly put soldiers' heads on display. Of course, he never chanced to meet her himself back then — or, depending on how one looks at it, he has no recollection of ever doing so — so even if he happened to come across her from her front instead of her back, it's unlikely that Howl would have made the immediate connection.

Instead, he simply finds himself eye-level with the hindquarters of centaur. He is accustomed to the more beast-like residents of this new world by now, so he does not wrinkle his nose as he would have a few months ago, but his tone of voice when he calls out to the stranger is curt. ]

Madame. [ as soon as he says it, he realizes his voice was probably drowned out by the noise of the market alley. so he tries again: ] Madame, if you would be so kind.

[warmare]

[Standing on the left side of her, with her empty eye socket covered by a makeshift, tied piece of cloth, the blonde man waiting to pass by her into the alley is lost to the blur of her damaged perception. Instead, she focuses her remaining sight on the material in front of her. White was... a horrible choice, every speck of dirt would be visible... Perhaps black, then? Or brown? What is she supposed to do here, she'd never in her life chosen her own clothing or accessories in her own world.

That wasn't an exaggeration. Jinba in a breeding stable wore what they were given, and nothing more.

But there is a noise, suddenly, that she realizes... seems to be addressed at her. And not realizing that she's actually blocking the street... Her tail whips irritably behind her as she turns just enough for the eerie dip in cloth where an eye used to to be to be obvious on the profile of her face]

What do you want? Can you not see that I am busy?

[The snap bares canines far too sharp to look as if they belonged to either the human or equine parts of her. But thankfully? for her verbal assailant... She hasn't gotten a good look at him yet.]

3b

[sterngaze]

[On this night (or day, or however one wants to differentiate time in this city of no sun), Liem has bundled up against the autumnal chill and set out for the city limits, seeking the wilds that lie beyond the quiet homes and shops of Highstorm. His time spent in the Regent's Citadel seems so long and oppressive now that, given the chance to wander, he finds himself drawn more often than not to green spaces and wide open landscapes.

His booted feet crunch along the narrow road as he leaves Highstorm's modest bustle behind, coming instead to a broad field of sweetly-scented blooms. He catches the snatch of conversation between the two locals easily, and pauses to scan the flowers himself until he spots the equine shape nearly hidden by verdant plant life. Dun in colour, just as he'd dared to wonder. He wades into the flowers over the sound of the gardeners' protests, making his way over to where Hayame is lying.]

Hayame. [A pause. Then,] I didn't expect to see you lying out here like this.

[warmare]

[There is a voice calling to her from somewhere far away. Hayame doesn’t know where it comes from, or its intent, but something about it has captivated her in a way that she would not be able to explain if asked later. Somehow, it has slowly urged her from a tense stand to a slightly more relaxed sit, down to her belly, and now nearly fully laying down, curled in on herself as if she might just fall asleep there regardless of what the native said. … She never even laid down to sleep in Horos, not unless she was too injured to stay upright.

The voice is familiar, and yet she cannot identify who is exactly it was. In one instant it seemed like Matsukaze, in the next her brother’s, and then the next it almost seemed like that of someone she had met in another world. But as captivating as that distant voice was-

There is suddenly another, much closer and more real. One she’d never actually thought she would hear again.

Hayame shoots upright, (her upper half, at least), her long hair tangled in the surrounding purple blooms and now marked with petals, twisting from the “hip” to see-]

… Liem.

[The name is breathed, more than said. Two brows rise, but only one eye betrays her shock, what was left (or wasn’t left) of the other hidden behind a leather patch. She had looked, before leaving Yima’s manor, but the fever of purging the Pleroma from her system and the dark embrace of unconsciousness she’d drifted in and out of as her shard acclimated to the crack across it’s surface means… she had not seen him, and yet now, here he was, just standing there—]

I thought you were dead…

[She’d seen M’d dagger slit his throat. Even if he’d survive that… the Regent had not seemed the type to suffer traitors.

… So she had hoped he was dead. For his sake.

Or were the flowers really as dangerous as those natives had said, and this was all just some hallucination after all?]

slides in a wildcard

[epiprocta]

[ It's somewhere on the busy, chaotic streets of Springstar that Hayame might have caught a whiff of a familiar scent -- something subtle enough that it struggles to cut through the cacophony of other smells that filter through the air, except it's terribly familiar. The smell of steamed rice, of broiled fish, of warm broth. Japanese-style home cooking.

A tiny eatery greets her if she follows her nose. A humble establishment bustling with a number of patrons eagerly chowing down on what looks like grilled saury atop bowls of white rice, with various simple vegetable dishes and bowls of something miso-soup-ish on the side. And while the server apologizes for how busy it is, the young woman eagerly chirps that there's one space left if she's willing to share the space with a stranger.

And the server gestures to a little standing table off in the corner already occupied by one person. Someone that Hayame might recognize.

Gen, who looks up with his chopsticks still halfway to his mouth, laden with still-steaming rice. Frozen for a moment, eyes wide, as he blinks in startled recognition.

'Of course, you can wait for another table,' the server tells Hayame, her tone of voice quickly turning apologetic. 'But our lunch time is almost over, and we're not sure what we'll still have in stock by then ...' ]

[warmare]

[Hayame has been looking for home ever since she had been ripped from it. Even if that "home" had for her been nothing but a source of pain, fear, and desperation, one she spent her entire life striving to make the best of in a situation where the best was something that made others recoil in disgust... It had still been hers. One of the only things that she "owned".

So she hadn't been able to help following the scent, even if half the time had been an unconscious thing. In Horos, she had never smelled miso, or the sorts of pickled vegetables she was used to... someone is grilling fish... there is decent looking rice...

And she wants it. She just... she wants it. To the point that she is willing to debase herself and offer barter or labor in exchange for her food, penniless as she lingers between commitment to either of the leaders who had offered the shard-bearers a place in their cities. But the issue of the crowding... sharing a table with a stranger is distasteful enough as a concept for her, but she can just eat her meal in silence no matter if someone tries to talk to her. The problem is...

It is that man. (Or dog.)]

How long is "almost over"?

[The server looks a bit nervous when Hayame's tail starts flicking about and almost whipping another customer in the head. Her answer of "just fifteen minutes before last order..." is met with a glower, that just so happens to be directed in Gen's direction. Why did it have to be a Kenoma...

Hayame's silence is long and deafening. Just before the server pipes up to gently try to ask what she'll do...]

I'll wait.

[... Is she. Going to watch Gen eat from a distance the whole time?]

2a!

[sanguinary]

[Matsui is neither saying anything nor shoving past her, at least for a minute or two. Sometimes you just Patiently Wait and the Patient Waiting seems to last for half an eternity...

When he does speak up, though, it's not to ask her to move. His easily distracted ass has taken an interest in the leathers she's looking over, and he's curious as to why she's perusing for so dang long. So, with a lilt of genuine curiosity in his tone as he pipes up:]

Are you having difficulty deciding which one to choose?

Re: 2a!

[warmare]

[Hayame did not know which one to choose.

Perhaps that was obvious. So far, she has set aside the white leather, for what warrior would have use of such a thing? It would surely be dirtied too easily with blood or dirt. But the rest… There are shades of brown and textures of black that do not seem so different to her fingers or her eyes. Eye.

It takes her a moment to realize the word she hears are addressed to her, but once she vaguely does-]

Yes.

[She provides only an absent, one-word answer as her tail flicks irritably behind her. Her motivations might not be overtly obvious from that angle, most of the injury covered by a thin cloth tied across her face and her long black hair, but. There is a very subtle emptiness to her profile where a left eye should be.]

01. IT'S TIME, to be horrendous

[redsoil]

[ Awaiting her among the roots is another, his posture indolent and eerily open among the idle curve of the tree of life's innards. The spill of roots below him appear, in this place, to strain for his ankles - hands, yearning to touch him. In this place, even the shape of the thing that haunts him attempts to wield soured memory, to hook its way in among his heart and fill him with dread. It takes the sight of her, a woman with the body of a horse, to draw his attention away from the roots nipping at his heels, reddened by the drip, drip, spill of a palm bitten down into ragged meat by sharp teeth.

He'd been bleeding for a bit, by now, hand hovering over the dirt as though to supplicate the dryad's demands alone.

She is -- well, he cannot discern what to make of her. A woman in one way, a beast of burden in another. He knew camel, he knew sand-born beasts of crocodilian flesh and stout wings, and he knew horses. She is two things that are not unfamiliar to him, though the compound shape of her reminds him of things the gods had designed - amalgamations none could discern the reason for, save for their creator. In his silence, he is nakedly looking upon her; the dark of her eye, the curve of her waist as it flows into her equine half. At one point, he goes so far as to unabashedly tilt his head as though to get a glimpse of her underbelly - impossible from the elevated place he is seated.

The meat of his palm curls upwards, capturing the sluggish bleed of his hand in the cup of his palm. No more for the tree. Not that it was working. The scarlet of his own eyes are bright, even in the dim, claustrophobic prison of root and bark; his pupils thinned into sleek, dark lines. He is red, and gold and black, and he stretches himself out indolent as a ruler upon a dais; humorlessly, to her alone, he states: ] I've been waiting. It's about time.

[warmare]

[The woman among the roots had demanded a sacrifice in exchange for the antidote to the poison creeping through their veins… and Hayame had given her one. The dryad asked for a life, and she had offered up a life.

Not hers. (And not with any consent from the other party- What entity required their sacrifice willing?)

But rather than freedom or relief from the poison she could feel gradually weakening her powerful body and creeping into her mind… she had been enfolded through the tree into another, different cage. She arrives like a tempest, hooves lashing out until she is free of the roots binding, moving her… and she arrives in front of a man, panting heavily, both sets of lungs heaving for breath, both hearts thundering in her ears. In the violence of whatever preceded her arrival and the violence of her resistance to the roots, the thin cloth tied over the left side of her face has gone askew, almost revealing the empty socket where a left eye had once been, leaving only raw (but not so raw that it could have occurred today) flesh and serum crusting on the fabric. Her long, ink black hair falls about her wild and chaotic, and the half-snarl on her face all too ready to become more than half reveals teeth far too sharp to match either human or equine parts.

More importantly, those teeth are stained crimson with blood just as bright as her new cagemate’s eyes. Not just her teeth. Blood stains her lips, drips down her chin and down her throat to splatter over her breasts and vanish between them. There were no weapons in her hand-

But she was a weapon. She did not need steel.

Disoriented by her forced relocation, her remaining eye rolls wildly until she establishes her location (another root cage), her new companion (a stranger, looking unarmed and eerily composed), but finally… What’s left of her gaze locks on him, her voice spilling rabid from her throat. He’s been waiting?]

You want to be my second offering so badly- ?

[Would it work if she made it two? Three? Four? Why hadn’t it worked- ? The answer is there, in the back of her mind, but she hasn’t stopped moving since she was first imprisoned… and the realization needs a moment to catch up.]

Market

[snakeshifter]

"Clever" is a word Shang Tsung would humbly use to describe himself, so it isn't surprising he came into some coin quickly. Hayame had caught his attention long before her stomachs began to rumble, an eyebrow arching at the sight of the horse-woman entering the markets. Not quite like the late and unlamented Centaurian Motaro, but similar enough to pique the sorcerer's interest. He's wondering how best to approach her when her stomachs decide his course for him. He makes a few quick purchases of hot and filling food, and then approaches.

"Young one, you look as though you're about to collapse." He offers kindly, pulling a loaf of warm, spiced bread from his bag. "Please, before you faint." He offers it to her with a smile. It does smell...enticing, a fact that Shang Tsung had paid some consideration to in making his choice.

3A!

[gravings]

[ Gray remembers the fierce-looking centaur from Horos, though she's only ever seen her from a distance. The woman certainly makes an impression. She looks, quite frankly, very scary. Gray never felt things would go well if she ever crossed direct paths with the woman.

But as Gray finds her path literally crossing Hayame's, she's possessed by a certain reckless abandon. Ever since arriving in this world, she's emphasized to herself that it's now or never if she wants to rebuild herself into a braver, bolder Gray. If she feels a little bit like it's worth talking to someone she knows shares her previous world, then by jove, she ought to do it.

So she firmly stutters, ]

Um... They're very good!

[ Even if she looks like she's planning escape routes as she pipes up from Hayame's side. ]