kenoslogs | april event, phase one: seeds of unrest 🌱

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april event, phase one: seeds of unrest 🌱

THE BEGINNING

Summertime in Springstar has been on its way out, heralding the arrival of fall; winter has likewise given way to spring in Highstorm - at least, according to the calendar. Yet there is an unseasonable bite on the breeze - one growing as frigid as the mood among Meris and Zenites in their cities. Between Alenroux’s occupation and talk of ‘the Blight,’ worries have been on the lips of the citizens with increasing frequency - and with good reason. The reports of plant life dying, of objects crumbling, of people whose bodies are deteriorating are dominating the rumor mills and local papers.

Everything comes to a head early in the second half of Pelu.

After an unusual pocket of commotion in the Seat of the Tribune and the courtyard of Yima’s manor, an urgent announcement is made on behalf of both cities: both Great Trees have been quarantined, and no one is permitted in either location without clearance. New rumors spread of an ‘incident’ that saw those in the immediate vicinity of the Trees rapidly demonstrating symptoms of an illness that was becoming all too easy to identify. It had stricken with frightening speed; not long afterward…

The unrest had spread into the streets, and it wasn’t just about the Blight anymore.

Cetina and Kathova wasted no time in reaching out to the Bearers via Communion to offer them guidance from their leaders and incite them to action.

SPRINGSTAR: THE ROOT OF THE ISSUE

Day by day, changes unfold that render the city increasingly dangerous...

ROOTS:

Vine-like roots have begun to thread the streets, creeping upon and over buildings, spreading outward from the Tree in Heliopolis. Over the next two weeks, they will continue to grow in size and become more troublesome, slowly blooming ice-like leaves that radiate a sickly glow.

GROWTH: Contrary to the Blight’s normal behaviors, some people and things around clusters of vines or leaves can experience a burst of vitality, growth, and splendor as if transforming to beyond peak condition. In a normal citizen, this may result in an almost manic level of energy, reckless behaviors, and aggression. In objects, they become more durable and efficient, but dangerously so - for example, a stovetop cooks faster but burns uncontrollably hot. In plant life, this results in overgrowth that can overwhelm and choke nearby flora, objects, or even people. Then, they burn out an hour after exposure and immediately succumb to a dire state of Blighted.

CHILL: The temperatures will continue to drop throughout the next two weeks. It will be coldest where vines have clustered and outright dangerously so near where flowers have budded or bloomed in great numbers. This will force some people from their homes.

TIME POCKETS:

In seemingly random parts of the city, areas referred to as ‘time pockets’ have populated. There is no way to identify a time pocket but to stumble into one.

REGRESSION: NPC’s in these areas will appear to freeze in time once a Bearer has breached the pocket’s radius but appear normal from the outside. Time within has halted at the point the pocket manifested ( typically covering an area like a city street or inside a single large building that sees regular use ). Objects can be freely manipulated but will not fall if thrown, etc.
- The pocket cannot be left until the Bearer has achieved their objective. Attempting to exit the way they entered, they’ll run into an unseen barrier that is painful to the touch, a sensation of frigidity that travels to their Shard.
- Their goal will be to locate a past version of themselves hidden from immediate view. This past version of themselves can be from any point in their lives but must be from a moment when they felt extremely vulnerable, isolated, wounded, or fearful.
- Once finding this past version, they will feel the compulsion to either find a way to reassure their past selves somehow or kill them. Whether it is the Bearer themselves who performs these acts or another Bearer in their company does it for them, as long as their past selves are pacified enough ( to player satisfaction ) or dead, they will gain immunity to the pocket and may leave. The immediate area will remain frozen, however, and the past version will be revealed to be made of roots that will shrivel and die.
- Note: Bearers will be able to see other Bearer’s past selves, even after they have been freed. Whether the past reflections are capable of speech while functional is up to player discretion.

HIGHSTORM: THE ROOTS OF CHANGE

The snows continue to fall over the city, feeling brittle against your skin...

ROOTS:

Vine-like roots have begun to thread the streets, creeping upon and over buildings, spreading outward from the Great Tree in Yima’s manor. Over the next two weeks, they will continue to grow in size and become more troublesome, slowly blooming ice-like leaves that radiate a sickly glow.

SACRIFICIAL: [ CW: self-harm ] Where the roots snake and gather throughout the city, NPC’s in several locations are falling victim to the quiet, slow pulse of the flowers and their buds. They will sit and stare at the flowers for hours, unblinkingly, as their body begins to succumb to the Blight. If they are disturbed in any way - a loud noise, an attempt to move their person, etc - they will calmly look up from their worship and crack off a piece of their brittle body before returning to their reverie.

In order to save them, a pair (or more) of Bearers must sneak up on the NPC - one using a pacifying spell given by one of the faction leaders while the other crushes the flower. If the NPC is not pacified before the flower is crushed, they will become hysterical and the Blight will rapidly consume them, causing them to perish. If they are pacified and the flower is not crushed, the spell will wear off within ten seconds with the same result.

CHILL: The temperatures will continue to drop throughout the next two weeks. It will be coldest where vines have clustered and outright dangerously so near where flowers have budded or bloomed in great numbers. This will force some people from their homes.

TIME POCKETS:

In seemingly random parts of the city, areas referred to as ‘time pockets’ have populated. There is no way to identify a time pocket but to stumble into one.

REFLECTIONS: NPC’s in these pockets are moving in surreal blurs, pieces of them moving forward as others move backward, some changing as if time were rapidly passing as others remain frozen still. The Bearers’ surroundings are distorted as if reflecting multiple realities simultaneously.
- Their goal will be to locate a tall standing mirror situated alone in the center of the time pocket’s radius. The Bearer who first touches their reflection ( henceforth called “mirror-Bearer” ) will cause the world inside the pocket to suddenly stop, reflecting a comforting environment they have fond or pleasant associations with. The mirror will be gone.

Something or someone the mirror-Bearer highly values, deeply misses, or sees as imperative to their character, goals, or desires will be present. If they make contact with this object or person, the Time Pocket loops and sends them back to searching for the mirror - but they will have no memory of this occurring. Their partner, however, will recall everything.

Both Bearers will be released if five loops occur without the mirror-Bearer being stopped from causing the loop or if the mirror-Bearer is stopped from reaching their goal for five minutes ( willingly or otherwise ). The longer they refuse to make contact with this object or person, the more tempting and dire the need becomes inside of them.

Once the Bearers are released, the Time Pocket disappears. If they manage to avoid contact with the temptation inside the Pocket, the roots and flowers in this area will be withered and dying, buying the NPC’s and buildings in this location some time. Otherwise, they will be thriving and dangerously blooming.

Note: the mirror will not respond to the non-mirror-Bearer once it has been touched the first time.

ENTREE-TING HELP

The Tree of Life is in danger, and you know it. Both Yima and Cyrus have directed all Bearers who might listen to increase visitation to the Tree and monitor it for signs of the Blight - of its leaves changing color, of any frostbitten bark, of its roots withering.

And then, during a moment in which you find your mind at ease, at rest... you dream, even if dreaming is unnatural for you. You dream of yourself sitting beneath the massive bows of the Tree's breadth, at peace. The perpetual dawn's glow warms your skin in a way that seeps into your bones, leaving you certain you are safe from harm. The Tree reaches out, and though it cannot speak to you in words, you feel it is trying to convey a message: one of urgency. One of plea.

But you cannot understand...

Soon, the branches of the Tree are reaching out to others. You cannot see them, but you know they're there; a spiritual tether connects your Shards together, bringing you all into a place of wordless unity. And once your fellows have been summoned, you know what you are here for.

You feel it rather than see it: some meager, barely-there brush of something cold in the warmth of the island's comfort. The Tree is already infected, and the clock is running down for all of you.

When you wake to yourself, a feeling of dread not entirely your own will chase you, and you will find a single violet leaf in your hand.

MISC NOTES

Bearers start with immunity to the Blight. They will not succumb to the effects of the Blight even if they handle the vines and flowers directly without precautions or care.
The above effects will occur in small clusters and are not yet spread city-wide during phase one. The escalation of frequency characters will come across problematic clusters or Time Pockets will be slow building.
For context, it takes about a month from infection to death or dissolution for the average person or object to succumb to the Blight. By the 21st, it will be three days to a week.
Bearers will be directed by Cetina or Kathova to make efforts to protect the civilians and investigate the manifesting changes around both cities. Both factions are working on their own methods to attempt to counteract the Blight, but neither has produced a failsafe solution.
The roots will remain mostly outdoors, for the most part, these first two weeks.
Tensions will slowly ramp up in Alenroux, and there are checkpoints for any non-PC visitors to screen for signs of infection.
Player characters who die inside the Time Pockets are dead and need their Shards brought to the Tree of Life for revival.
HAVE FUN!! ♥

CODING

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ He is a solid fifty percent better than she last remembered.

(Lottie is both simultaneously impressed and vaguely appalled that it's only fifty percent.)

She puts her notebook face down on the table, lets her hands rest in her lap in a way that teeters on smug when he reaches into his pocket for that envelope. She wants to say 'I told you so' so very badly but she won't— so she'll say it with her eyes, with the way her lips curl up in that knowing sort of way as she takes a sip of her little coffee drink. God, it feels good to be appreciated! And right .. Mainly the second one. ]

Of course! [ No problem, she means. ] I said I'd figure out a way, didn't I?

[ The way in question just so happened to be.. Relatively the simplest, oldest, 'way' in the book. The cheapest, too, because she didn't even have to pay for postage (fun) or figure out how postage works here anyway (fun!). ]

Let me get you some coffee first or something before we head out.

( it's less that he'd doubted she'd figure a way to communicate with him — the postal service is hardly a new-fangled invention — and more that he hadn't expected her to reach out in any shape or form. she'd been at the tree by sheer coincidence and, though it's not that he doesn't appreciate her helping him to highstorm, he'd thought her whole 'see you around' thing was politeness and nothing more — they hadn't exactly bonded, hadn't become fast and furious friends, they'd just ... walked together a bit. lottie had told him about distressing psychic communication. he'd — been him, not exactly at his best, but given the circumstances, he thinks that's to be expected. )

Yeah, you did. ( he answers, tone questioning and hesitant and, in reality, it's less a 'yes' and more a 'why?'. the invitation had conveniently avoided mentioning any of what this is for, and he gets partway to asking (that is, he starts to open his mouth to speak) when she offers him coffee and he stops. he looks past her, into the coffee shop — there's not much to see, the windows serving more as reflective mirrors of the street outside, and— ) Black filter, please. ( not that he can't order his own, but she's offered.

(even if there's a part of him that'd prefer a latte.) ) —Or whatever's closest.

[ It's true, they haven't bonded, their walk was at best mediocre, and Marc was just weird.. Understandably so, given the situation. But she saved him (not really) thinks that in a way she owes it to follow up and see how he's doing (not really)— plus, he's a zenite now, it just makes sense.

(That's a flimsy excuse, in itself. Lottie doesn't even care about all the stupid factional nonsense— she's only aligned with Zenith because her friends are in it.)

She leaves her things behind for him to watch as she walks into the cafe. It's a solid minute or so before she reemerges with his coffee— it looks suspiciously modern, the takeaway cup his brew is in. It might be why she's so closely involved with this shop, so she can bask in the nostalgia or the familiarity whenever she likes. There's even a name, her name, written on the side in a fun marker: Lottie, but with a heart dotting the 'i'. She hands the cup to him, ]

It's hot. [ (She'll cringe about this later because, duh, of course coffee is hot? And he sure as hell didn't ask for it iced?) ] Their stuff is pretty good so I think you'll like it.

( lottie informs him his hot coffee is, indeed, hot and though he doesn't say anything, his expression flickers just enough that it's clear he noticed. he redirects his attention to the name scrawled on the cup. it's spelt correctly, which is more than marc's experiences at coffee establishments have ever resulted in ('mark' (which fine, whatever), 'mart' (hmm), marc-with-a-c 'marck' (???), 'matt' (come on, marc isn't even an uncommon name—) ). it smells — coffee-ish enough, and marc thinks lottie's severely overestimating his taste for precisely anything food and beverage related with her 'it's good so you'll like it' assertion.

marc probably will like it, but not because it's good. he's spent enough years in his life drinking instant coffee — awful freeze-dried granules dumped into a mug and covered with enough hot water and sugar to make it tolerable, and burnt, over-extracted diner coffee to not really care how it tastes as long as it's not, say, decaf. )

Mmm, ( he murmurs, tone hovering somewhere around disinterested distraction as he takes a sip. pauses— —yeah, hot. ) Thank you. ( anyway. ) So what's this about? Checking in with me to see how I'm settling in?

[ Oh, she is indeed overestimating how important coffee is and how good it tastes to him. She does it because it's how she sees the one thing that grounds her every morning, the one technically 'normal' thing everyone in every universe needs (apparently). She takes a sip of her own cup in time with his, turning her head deliberately away to keep the quirk of her lips out of view because — yeah, hot. 'I told you', she almost says, but he beats her to speaking. ]

Of course! [ Technically. Technically, she wanted to see what he was doing and, if it just so happens to be in her neck of the woods right where her shop is.. Technically she can show him that, too? ] And to kinda show you around the place. Can't always stay stuck in Highstorm forever!

[ She gathers her things from the table, settles her notebook in the crook of her arm. ]

And how are you settling in?

( he hadn't really expected her to actually ask how he's settling in. it's not, strictly, the first time anyone's asked him that, but it's been couched in more vague terms, a kind of general so how are you finding it with a side of but what do you actually think? (or: 'did you really choose to side with zenith because of moons? wherein marc's answer — embarrassingly, that he hasn't wholly admitted to just yet — is 'yes'.)

it'd be disingenuous to say he's settling in fine because he's not. there's still a lot that marc isn't sure about, there's still a lot he's in a debatable state of denial over. he's not entirely inclined to believe that their worlds and everyone in them are gone, not in the way that's presented, but that doesn't mean that there's not a large part of him that wonders. doesn't mean there isn't part of him that, whatever the truth is, doesn't miss his friends.

(but the best kind of answer is no answer, evidently, and so he gesture vaguely with a hand as if to say 'eh'.) ) Could be worse.

( as for the rest of it — whilst marc hasn't spent a huge amount of time outside of highstorm, he's spent some time elsewhere. ) I've been to Alenroux, ( he points out, deliberately contrary. he might not have spent much time in springstar, but he has done — some things. )

[ Sure, Lottie may be Zenith aligned for approximately all of her time here, but she's also.. Hm, arguably kind of the worst when it comes to being Zenith aligned. She rubs arms with a lot of the more vocal supporters and yet, here she is in the "enemy" city putting her grubby paws down and living here five days out of the week, discord and all. So when she asks how he's doing, it is in a literal sense. In a, 'I don't have the capacity to care about drama going on outside of my own' sense.

Which is why his mention of Alenroux gets a mixed response, because why would you ever want to go there with all the shit going on? She raises a brow, purses her lips for a moment. She's actively trying to see it from the perspective of someone — she assumes is — mostly normal, who just arrived. And.. Nope. She still doesn't get it! ]

What, to like.. Check it out or something? It's just a farm city.

[ That has military sanctioned around it, but.. Details. Details that she is trying not to think about because it's caused a stir among the faction she doesn't want to get into. ]

Not a lot to do there.

( she looks as if she's trying to figure something out when marc says he'd been to alenroux and until she speaks again, marc isn't entirely sure what. it's an appraising, contemplative expression and honestly, marc doesn't think he'd said anything particularly— "it's just a farm city". right. that's a 'why?', then, and marc makes an odd noise, one that sits somewhere between agreement and disagreement, as if he thinks she's not wrong but doesn't entirely want to agree with her, either.

so he takes another sip of his coffee. (it's still hot but it's drinkable, at least.) ) I was looking for a way to keep myself busy. ( that's one way of putting it, anyway. it's been a long time since marc's had to try and find something to do without the overarching duty of being moon knight, of having an established life and it's strange and discomforting in ways that marc isn't quite ready to admit to.

"my life only has meaning when I beat people up at night" isn't the sort of conversational topic most people enjoy — which is to say, he doesn't elaborate on why he'd thought to check out alenroux, doesn't explain that he'd heard of the military sanctions, heard about the creatures slash monsters slash whatever, and it'd sounded — well, not exactly fun, but a little more exciting. )

—But yeah. Pretty much just a farm city. ( with military sanctions — to be fair, not the strangest occurrence marc's ever come across. resources and all of that. )

[ It is one way of putting it.. She can't really deny that there's a sort of adjustment period to being here. Careers are lost, everything you knew is kind of thrown to the wind. Nothing is the same and, arguably, you know nothing. Can't google anything, no maps — Lottie has had to learn where North and South are, for crying out loud, it's terrible. So when he mentions keeping himself busy (not going insane, is what she takes this as), she inhales deeply. ]

Yeah.. You're not gonna stay busy there.

[ Unless you, you know, like plants. On a principle, she doesn't, so she loathes even heading there. But.. Maybe Marc, guy who knows a (1) god, would? He sips at his coffee and she immediately begins to backtrack that statement. There's no way she could see him in a pair of denim washed overalls and a flannel. Yuck. ]

If it makes you feel better, I still have trouble finding stuff to do.

( she says he's not going to stay busy there and he looks her over, a quick appraisal that doesn't quite say he disagrees, but does say he's unsurprised with her assessment. lottie as a person may presently be a question mark of a person as far as marc's concerned, but her demeanour and appearance (and 'farm city' comment, to be clear) don't combine to create a picture of someone at home in alenroux.

he gestures with a hand — a vague sort of wave that's intended as a shrug, and— ) Some of the local ( are they local? who knows, ) creatures are interesting, ( he offers as a mild rebuttal. he's not particularly committed to it and it's obvious, although it's as obvious that lottie's second remark does precisely nothing to make him feel better. (or, indeed, worse. it's a nothing remark.)

his gaze shifts away from her for a few moments, towards the street. marc doesn't spend much time in the sun in general, not in recent years, and springstar is nothing but sunlight. not exactly his scene. ) —I don't know if you and I run in quite the same circles. ( beat, elaboration— ) Find the same sort of things engaging.

( or: no. ) But thanks. It's good to know everyone struggles.

[ Somehow.. That doesn't surprise her. Lottie may barely know Marc, considers him the weird dirt man who was sort of alright, but this checks out. Nobody who arrives here to help fight the 'good fight' (questionable) is normal in any capacity, not like her and Misa. There's always some kind of plot twist, supernatural or otherwise, to someone.

Marc's, for the most part, is his penchant to wear white and that one (1) time he mentioned something about an Egyptian god. And his apparent interest in creatures and creepy crawlies of the night (she puts two and two together but doesn't say anything, figures if he isn't there's no reason she should, either). She sips at her drink, hums softly when he finishes.

And then, she cants her head one way, her own method of telling him to follow her down the street as she begins their walk. ]

I think of it as a rite of passage. [ What she doesn't say: she thinks of it the same way a fraternity would haze somebody. Nothing particularly pleasant or fun about it other than you just have to do it. ] The phase where we're all finding ourselves, except in a completely different universe..

( she doesn't say that they're walking anywhere, merely does, and it's left to marc to either follow her or not. he does — it'd be rude otherwise, particularly as she has just bought him coffee — and she offers commentary that marc doesn't quite agree with on the process of being here. he glances over at her, eyebrows knitting together in skepticism. then she mentions different universes and he thinks, briefly, of the time he'd encountered alternate versions of himself. it hadn't managed to be something that quite hit his idea of 'a fun time', and this isn't quite it, either.

marc knows who he is — dying had helped changed him the first time, added the finishing touches to a stark, sudden realisation of who he didn't want to be, but that'd been years ago now. he's had over a decade to discover himself (and steven, and jake), and though he can't say he's happy with who he's found himself to be, it's not something he finds himself questioning. )

I think I've passed the soul-searching part of my life. ( uttered entirely as a statement of fact — not exactly off-hand, but not entirely meant to encourage small talk. springstar is — contrary to appearances — a little colder than he'd expected and he's grateful for the still-hot coffee in his hands. ) I don't need to find myself any more than I already have.

[ It wasn't a question of whether he'd follow her or not to Lottie — if he came out all this way to see what she wanted, then he was already going to follow. Right? Right. But still, it's nice to hear him trot after her, his boots hitting the carefully laid pavement in an off beat with her own pair of heels. She turns to look at him, hearing what he's saying and promptly writing it off. Some cynical part of her wants to insist that soul-searching and finding yourself are always going to be integral themes to just existing here. It's all everybody talks about, half of the reason why they're in this "war" to begin with.

..But also, she is especially biased. A little jealous, maybe, at the way he just casually states that. And who knows, he very well may be finished with it, just like how Lottie is in the process of writhing in it. She doesn't know him well enough to tell either way, something she reminds herself of as she struggles to find something interesting to say.

In the end she gives up, takes a sip of her coffee and dryly comments as they turn the corner— ] That makes one of us, at least.

[ —and she is promptly, bizarrely, bumping into someone stiff as a board. Her coffee spills open and paints both her and the poor person unfortunate enough to be in her path. What she doesn't clock immediately — too busy audibly yelping because her drink was cold and she's wet — is that she didn't just walk into someone not minding their business. She walked into someone stock still on the pavement, frozen mid movement. That the air is stiffer here, and it's eerily silent, a perfect tune to match the Springstar citizens scattered throughout the vicinity equally frozen in time. ]

( crucially, it's not exactly true. marc has done a lot of soul-searching, spent a lot of time on introspection and self-reflection, and found — repeatedly — that he doesn't really like who he is. he'd tried, more than once, to not be himself; he'd tried, too, to push steven forward, to push jake forward, and make them lead the lives that marc wasn't interested in (not wasn't interested — felt he didn't deserve). it'd backfired, it always had, because when it came down to it, marc resented being buried and being ignored; resented being considered an afterthought, something necessary but better off not seen.

in spite of all of it, in spite of his cynicism, his inability to balance the facets of his life and steven's life and jake's life, he's always found himself clinging to the sliver of hope that says he's better than that, better than his past.

but it doesn't mean he wants to acknowledge any of it.

their conversation is stilted, then. awkward. not during their journey from the tree and certainly not now have they managed to hit on a topic of conversation that flows, that they're both interested in. marc is certainly not difficult enough that he's incapable of holding a conversation, but he's never been especially good at it — he's better if he has a reason for the conversation, a goal, an aim, even if it means his interest in the topic at hand is fabricated. here and now, he's got nothing other than a vague sense of debt to lottie for helping him.

he glances at her, expression appraising and watchful as she settles on a response that does about as much to further their conversation as marc's had, just in time to watch her walk straight into someone. he's not quite as shocked and startled as she is, purely because he isn't the one that ends up covered in cold coffee, but to say he's not at all would be a lie. he stops abruptly, empty hand partially held out towards lottie before he realises there's not a lot he can do to help before his attention swings to the person she'd bumped into because there's—

nothing. not a word, not an exclamation, not even a yell or a threat despite the fact that lottie's coffee went over them too. they're utterly still and utterly silent, and marc swears quietly under his breath. did this just happen? why didn't he notice—? he waves his hand in front of the still still stranger (nothing), and turns on the spot, gaze roving over the unfamiliar sight of springstar. aside from the obvious, he wouldn't know if anything's different or if anything's out of place.

eventually, finally, he looks back to lottie. )

Is this normal? ( look, he's gotta check. )

[ Lottie shivers, jolts backwards because a piece of ice ended up going down her shirt and it is so very cold on her bare skin on top of the coffee seeping into her shirt. She is so uncomfortable that she doesn't even notice everything around her at first, still doesn't, even as Marc offers a hand to her before switching his focus. He waves in front of that stranger — still giving him nothing, not even blinking or breathing, really — and she's curling over herself to try and coax the piece out from her now untucked shirt.

And then she frowns because she's feeling up her shirt and how sticky it is in the palm of her hands and it's just terrible!! How could this happen to her?! ]

What's normal?

[ It's a bit sharp, the way it comes out, but it's not because of Marc's question. It's because she is just very, very, irritated, and often times when it grips her she finds it easiest to let it out on the person (or thing) nearest.

The combination of a foul mood and an even fouler (arguably, ruined) outfit means she doesn't quite notice herself backing up— as if any steps taken back will make her escape this situation — AKA, the ice — sooner. The barrier of this timepocket hits her back after an ill timed step, and she warbles out a sound that's a mix of shock and pain, yet wholly uncomfortable. A chill sweeps through her body, starts at the shard sitting pretty at the base of her neck and she doubles over. ]

No, no—? [ She breathes out something like 'wow' and 'holy shit', hands on her knees, as she finally looks up to see Marc beside a very still, very non-moving patch of Springstar. ] No. Not normal. Oh god— what the fuck was that?

( marc misses most of lottie's ordeal with the ice in her shift in favour of trying to comprehend everything else — a little spilt coffee seems miniscule in comparison, utterly inconsequential given how everything and everyone except the two of them seem frozen.

what he doesn't miss is the vague shape of her movements in his periphery, up until she snaps back an answer to his question. he's startled by the tone and it's there, visible in the way his eyebrows arch and his eyes widen, before shifting quite quickly into something that resembles irritation, then back to surprise as she steps backwards and stops, abruptly, doubling over in — pain? his gaze wavers between her and the sight of springstar behind her. there's nothing there, nothing that'd give sense and meaning to what he'd just watched.

he cants his head, indecision weighing on his features before he extends a hand towards lottie to help her stand back upright and to pull her forward. he doesn't know, doesn't have an answer for her question and in lieu of an immediate (verbal) response, his mouth thins into a line and his brows pinch together into a frown. )

I don't know. ( beat. ) Are you okay? ( even as he speaks, his attention drifts back to the unfortunate person lottie had walked into. there's a wry quirk of his lips and for a moment, he looks like he's going to add something else, a dry remark that says she's better off than that poor sap, at least, though it — fortunately, perhaps — doesn't get much further than being an expression on marc's face.

comment thought the better of, marc once again looks to the patch of — nothing that lottie had collided with, considers reaching out and touching it for himself. it's a lingering consideration, punctuated by a hmm as marc reaches the conclusion that no, he's not that fucking stupid, and turns back to face the direction they'd originally been walking.

has he ever encountered anything like this? he doesn't think so. there'd been morpheus — hallucinations, dreams, an inability to tell wakefulness and from sleep and he supposes there's a chance this is something similar. supposes there's a chance none of this is real and it's all in his head, that lottie's just a creation of his mind and the real her is somewhere else, somewhere in a springstar that isn't — this.

which means onwards, then, and— ) Be careful. We don't know who or what's out here.

I'm okay.. [ If he did reach out, Lottie would promptly try and tug him away. And if he insisted on it anyway, well, then she'd let him. But he doesn't do much of anything, and that lack of movement leaves her plenty of time to hyper focus on herself. On the odd thrum the barrier caused her, which is still making her shard feel weird, settle oddly into her skin, and she is so painfully oversensitive to everything that she tries her best to stay very still. To stay very calm. It's not like she has a reputation of being a badass or anything, but she doesn't want to show Marc more than he's already seen. After all, she's the one with more experience in situations like this, right? Just another day!

But when she looks up at the person she had bumped into, frozen in time and practically stuck to the ground, her latte seeping into their shirt with no movement on their face, she feels that incessant need to be dependable and cool die down. She is freaked out, and she is feeling strange — courtesy of magic she has no control over, courtesy of the fucking drink she spilled. ]

I don't think it's a person.. [ She offers eventually, wiping her hands on her thighs and easing up and walking around the poor coffee soaked bastard. ] Stuff like this just happens.

[ Does that mean she knows why? Absolutely not!! She walks at a slow pace so Marc can stay beside her, or in front of her, even behind her, if he wants. Lottie doesn't care, is too busy memorizing the bare and stiff faces of people they cross down the street. Of regular citizens in the middle of their own daily routines, in their own complicated lives. The sound of their footsteps is agonizingly loud with nothing else to drown it out, and she scratches at her scalp in budding panic. ]

God, just— how did we not see this?

( I don't think it's a person, she says, her gaze fixated on the person she'd walked into, and for a very short, fleeting moment, marc thinks 'yes, it is a person' before realising she means the cause of their situation, and he's very glad he didn't choose to vocalise that particular thought. his expression, though, shifts quickly from bemusement to realisation to relief, then back to cautious, wary bemusement when she explains that 'stuff like this just happens'.

he shouldn't be surprised, he thinks. he shouldn't have questions because this kind of thing isn't exactly outside of the realms of possibility in his life in general, but it's still not the sort of thing he deals with on a day-to-day basis. this is more of a stephen strange kind of deal, or — avengers? (or, as he's already considered, none of this is real).

he looks back to the whatever lottie had walked into, not exactly fading in the distance as they walk, but it's there, distantly, punctuated by one of the many still bodies of people not like them. he presses his lips together momentarily, redirects his gaze to lottie, attention caught by the sudden, slightly frantic movement of her rubbing her head.

where their footsteps had seemed loud, her voice seems louder still. shrill in the silence and startling, and marc winces, just briefly. )

We didn't see it because we weren't supposed to see it, ( he tells her. it's less a suggestion, less a 'maybe'. it's an assumption presented as fact because marc isn't sure what the alternative would be, can't think of any other explanation. he contemplates telling her about morpheus, about ebon energy and hallucinations but decides, swiftly, that he'll come back to that. once they know a little more. ) Whatever it is, it's probably confined to a geographical location. ( a beat, a glance. ) As the coffee shop was fine, ( he adds, by way of reasoning. ) If we keep walking, we'll exit out the other side. ( hopefully, he doesn't add, as there's a flicker of movement at the corner of his eyes that's definitely not lottie.

(hmm—.) )

[ Really, if he started telling her about Morpheus (who?), about ebon energy (again, who?) and hallucinations (less who, more not again seriously) she'd probably just assume she's made this up somehow. That a small part of this isn't real and she just forgot to take her magic medication — who knew hallucinations as a side effect would be universal for allergies, everywhere? Typical Lottie, typically dysfunctional and forgetful! But she knows she did take it, this morning, because they work better at curbing her allergies, the symptoms. So that mean right now she can smell: nothing. Usually there's be a food market a street or so down that she likes to walk across and pine after, that's supposed to be well active right now, but nothing.

And it makes her skin prick with nerves, even as Marc explains something that she should've already picked up on. As he explains that it's probably confined to a block or two (no, she does not know how big a block is but she's assuming that's what he means), and she lets her fingers release her hair and.. Nods. Once, twice. Some understanding and sanity finally seeping back into her face because, alright. Alright, they can do that? She can handle that. ]

Okay, I mean.. What's the worst that could happen?

[ Lottie, with her normal (questionable— she needs glasses but chooses not to wear them outside in front of others) eyes, does not see that flicker of movement. Doesn't even hear much, either, no shuffle of footsteps or breathing or anything, with her talking. She remains perfectly oblivious— ]

If we can't find the other side, then let's panic.

( there's a lot of not great things that could happen, and though marc is not a superstitious guy (perhaps ironically, given everything), he's not about to start reeling off a list of 'worst things that could happen'. it's not a particularly enjoyable topic of conversation, after all, and given lottie's reaction up to now, marc's not convinced her reaction would be anything he has in him to want to deal with. )

You don't want the answer to that question. ( is what he opts for instead, and it's not necessarily better.

still, lottie doesn't seem to react to the movement marc's certain (sure!) he saw, and though there's a chance that it happened and she simply didn't see, marc takes it as a sign to be cautious. more cautious than normal. mindful, that maybe—? (she continues to speak and he doesn't really listen. instead, he turns towards the side street, the definitely not the exact opposite side of where they are, and waits for the count of three. there's nothing else, nothing immediate and marc scowls. looks to lottie, entirely unaware as to whether she's waiting for an answer or a response of any kind— ) —It'll be fine. ( an addition to his earlier statement, not exactly a response to her suggestion of panicking later. )

Let's go.

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april event, phase one: seeds of unrest 🌱

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betrayed by my own keyboard