april event, phase one: seeds of unrest 🌱

[beleos]

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

Comments

[diversionist]

[ of course gen has a complaint to raise about that. good thing cassian nipped it in the bud!!

so he ignores the glare at his back, attention focused on this kid. this...facsimile of a kid, he knows. but one with the memories and mannerisms of the real child gen had been, as far as cassian can tell, if without the dog ears and tail. he notices without dwelling on it; maybe they came in later in life? he's not about to make presumptions about what species gen is. ]

Hey, [ cassian prompts, kneeling to make himself less imposing. ] Hey, look at me. [ he pauses, hoping that the child does exactly that. regardless, he'll go on, ] I know you didn't. You aren't in trouble, okay? I want to help you.

[epiprocta]

[ That small version of Gen remains quiet when Cassian kneels, and while he does briefly meet Cassian's gaze upon request, he seems to be having a hard time focusing -- his eyes wander from point to point across their surroundings as he distracted rubs at a smear across his cheek. It only tracks the tacky blood across his cheek, almost into his eye. ]

... don't need help.

[ So he says, but the child swallows hard, avoiding Cassian's gaze as he reflexively looks down at the knife in his hand. ]

I ... just did what I had to. ... I fixed everything. [ -- so why does everything still feel so wrong? Cassian might hear the sound of a rustle behind him, but lucky for him, Gen (the larger) is making no move to step in for now. It's instead just that he has a hand pressed to his mouth, clearly fighting off a wave of nausea as the child mumbles, ] ... I think. I think it's all fixed now.

[diversionist]

What did you fix?

[ his question works twofold, in learning more about the state of the child in front of him. if smaller gen gives him a verbal answer, he can assess for specificity, for what's implied, for what is or isn't true. if he doesn't — or even if he does — his reaction will also be telling. how much can he bring himself to say, if he says anything at all? the how he answers is as informative as the what

cassian notes the sound from behind, and there's a slight stiffening to his spine, but when he hears no footfalls he returns his attention to the kid. this smaller gen isn't all here, it's clear, is half still in the moment he'd (at a guess) wielded that knife to "fix" the "problem." an understandable reaction. a concerning one. he's so young to have this look about him, to have a weapon in his hand. his attitude is nothing like the older, present day teenager. ]

cw: emeto mention

[epiprocta]

… I fixed — … [ Cassian does get a verbal answer, but it’s a halting and meandering one. ] … everything. I think.

[ The smaller Gen still clutches at that knife so hard his knuckles have paled and his palm is starting to hurt, his other hand coming to grip at his wrist and cradle that arm closer to his body. But it feels strangely difficult letting go of that knife. He makes a strangled little noise, like a sob caught deep in his throat, before giving a jerky nod. ]

Since — … since I did like she asked me to. He’s gone now. He can’t hurt her or Reiji any more. So it’s … right. I’ll stop feeling … like this. Soon.

[ The next sound that Cassian might hear from behind is the scuff of footsteps — though they distance themselves from him, instead of drawing any closer. Because Gen-the-original stumbles around the corner, out of immediate sight, to retch violently, emptying the contents of his stomach against the pavement.

But for better or for worse, the child before Cassian doesn’t seem to hear it, instead managing to meet his gaze for a moment as he speaks quietly: ] I just did what I was supposed to do.

[diversionist]

[ he swallows.

his eyes flick up and down the child once again, fitting together the pieces. i fixed everything. the knife in his hand. he's gone now. the blood all over his clothes, his skin, his shoes. like she asked me to. the distant gaze, the distressed noises. the gen of present day behind him, his obvious reaction to all of this.

i just did what i was supposed to do.

cassian holds the small boy's gaze. he doesn't flinch, doesn't move, doesn't look pitying. doesn't look, precisely, anything for a long moment. (he can't hurt her or reiji anymore.) his breath feels like a living thing trapped behind his ribs, tightening his chest. ]

You did good.

[ his voice is such a soft, faltering thing. it's likely the gen of present day can't hear him at all, though the child is near enough. he breathes in sharply, then he seems to settle back into himself. his eyes, on gen, are warm. his voice pitched to reassurance, steadier, as he goes on. ]

You protected your friends, right? I'm sure Reiji will be grateful. [ he isn't sure of anything of the sort. ] And your other friend...what did you say her name was?

[ gen hadn't said a name, of course, but the ploy might work on a distressed kid. after a beat, his eyes drop to gen's hands, and he asks, ]

Why don't you give me that knife? You won't be needing it anymore. [ and, the worst lie: ] You'll feel better if you do, I think.

[epiprocta]

[ ‘You did good.’ The child gives a weary blink at that, followed by a small nod. His next breath comes deeper, followed by a shallow hiccough, then a shaky exhale; it’s obvious that he’s struggling very, very hard not to cry, fighting back the way his eyes keep watering despite himself. His voice wobbles at first before managing to even out when he speaks again. ]

She’s not my friend. [ A quick, jagged breath. ] … Mrs. Yuko is Reiji’s mom.

[ He says it plainly, because at that age, he hadn’t yet been aware of anything wrong with that. Kurose Yuko had been weak, and so she had asked him to protect them. What did it matter that she was a grown adult asking a child to kill for her? Isn’t it natural that the weak are meant to be protected by those capable of it?

After a pause wherein he nervously looks into Cassian’s eyes — they’re warm, much warmer than anything he’s used to seeing from the adults around him — Gen raises his hand to place it in Cassian’s. His fingers are sticky with half-dried blood that smears against Cassian’s palm, and though he tries to let go, his grip remains so tight around the knife handle that his hand is shaking slightly. ]

I can’t … [ He swallows thickly, looking at the knife for a moment before looking back to Cassian in obvious distress, his voice lowering to a shaky whisper. ] D-do I have to keep going?

[diversionist]

[ the picture of just what happened to gen is starting to come into focus, and what a fucking picture it is.

he'd begun to suspect that the she might be an adult, but the confirmation sits grimly in his mind. the additional context — reiji's mom — gives him a good guess of who gen killed, too. wife-beater, child-beater (maybe, because while the boy speaks true, it isn't hard to deceive a child), and she asks her son's friend to kill him? did she put the knife in his hands, too? in the real course of events, the one where the real gen killed a man and was this deeply shaken, did she do anything for him or throw him into the cold? how did this child grow up into the foul-mouthed teenager cassian met in an alley?

is that so hard to imagine?

but for all that his thoughts race, he keeps white-knuckled control on his expression. his eyes, his tone. his gentle demeanor. his hand is extended for the knife, and he's relieved when gen seems ready to relinquish it...or, at least, tries to. his eyebrows draw together, despite himself, when gen places knife and his whole hand onto cassian's palm wholesale, looks up at him with that awful distress. maybe he would care less for the unhappiness for a child if not for what he saw, with amos, in highstorm not so long ago. maybe it wouldn't feel like the reverberation of a gong inside him, struck by this apparition.

slowly, as if dealing with a wounded animal, he raises his free hand. he places it on top of gen's fist, knife at all, so that it is cupped between cassian's hands. ]

Can I try?

[ his gaze goes from their hands, back to gen's face. ]

[epiprocta]

[ He can keep going if he needs to, the child thinks. Even as he shivers, his next breath coming shuddering past parted lips, that young version of Gen thinks that he can continue doing his duty, if he has to.

(And around the corner, still doubled over against the wall and trying not to be sick anew from the lingering, sour taste of bile at the back of his throat, the older Gen wonders why those words from his younger self sound so strange. ‘Keep going’ how? There had only ever been one man he’d been asked to kill back then. Even Yuko, sick bitch that she was, had only burdened him with one target to eliminate. So … what had that mirror of younger self meant with that question? In what way would he have had to ‘keep going?’

Why does that very thought send a shiver of something heart-stoppingly cold cutting through his guts?)

As gentle as it is, the rest of a hand atop the younger Gen’s small hand still earns a small jolt, fingers gripping even tighter around the knife’s handle until the protrusion of small knuckles must be clearly felt against Cassian’s palm. His breaths, too, had quickened to shallower rasps for a moment.

— but for some reason, looking into Cassian’s eyes helps. Those warm eyes that don’t look upon him with stern disapproval even as he hiccoughs with his next breath. This man’s voice, too, is calm and kind. What he says isn’t an admonishment or an order, but a question. How strange, for an adult to ask him for permission for anything. The younger Gen swallows thickly before giving a small nod. Speaking feels difficult, especially when he’s barely keeping himself from crying just by controlling his breaths. But the way he thrusts his hand forward a fraction in Cassian’s grasp must communicate even without words: ‘please help me.’ ]

[diversionist]

[ cassian has kept his composure through worse situations than dealing with a weeping child. but he feels the strain of this one, though he'd never admit it — to himself, or anyone else. he keeps very still even as the younger gen flinches, simply doesn't move. the child can pull his hands away if he wants to, with no resistance. but instead, gen looks back at his face, and he finally nods, moves his hand forward a little.

(a weeping child, as if gen is a little kid who was denied a piece of candy. but framing it to himself as dealing with a child murderer is a worse strain. he knows that's what this is, but he doesn't acknowledge it to himself in so many words. it's more important that he help this child — that he deal with this situation — with a cool head and steady hands. anything detrimental to that has to be set aside to be looked at later, if ever.)

carefully, cassian lifts one of his hands — the one on top of gen's — starts to pry at the boy's fingers. being gentle is not a thing that comes easily to him. being kind is not a thing that comes easily to him. but he will start to work, one by one, at loosening gen's hold on the knife. and he will try his best to do so without causing the boy any pain. as he works, he breaks the silence — if the child's near-crying can be called silent — with a belated answer. ]

You don't. [ slow, carefully, pulling at gen's fingers to unwind them from the bloody knife. cassian's eyes fixed on the job. ] Everything will be okay now.

[ cassian had, does, keep going. part of the reason was this: so other people like this lost child wouldn't have to bear that burden. so the galaxy would create fewer lost children like this one, like the one he had once been., ]

And if anything else happens, I will take care of it. [ he glances back upwards, now, to gen's face. ] Okay?

[epiprocta]

[ It takes more effort than Cassian might have expected to pry that first small finger away from the handle of the knife. As gentle as Cassian's efforts are, Gen tenses up at first -- small shoulders squared and jaw clenched, other hand grasping at a handful of bloodied shirtfront for lack of anything else to hold onto. His pulse is still pounding in his ears so loud that it almost drowns out his thoughts, his nerves locked into place by the sickening buzz of adrenaline, and it almost feels like he's staring at someone else's hand when that first finger is pried away, then another. Then another.

A part of his mind had still been trapped back in a small, blood-soaked, tiled bathroom, staring at a pale body huddled on the floor -- obvious in the way his gaze had stared intensely at the knife without really seeing it, focused and distant at the same time. But it's only when Cassian's voice tugs at him gently that he returns to the moment.

'Okay?' the man asks. His voice is kind. His eyes are warm. ]

... okay.

[ That answer comes choked and small, but it's followed by a nod, eyes squeezed shut. And -- Gen unfurls his last finger from the knife's handle on his own, leaving it to sit cold against Cassian's palm. The blood slicked all down its handle's cooled tacky and almost black.

Gen isn't looking at it, though. Instead, his focus is entirely on Cassian -- wanting to trust in that steadfast voice. His hand is still shaking with minute tremors as he starts to withdraw it, but they subside when he permits himself to grasp at Cassian's hand, instead. A gesture that he knows is weak and embarrassing, but ... maybe this man will permit it, just for now. Just long enough that he can ask -- ]

Did ... I do the right thing?

[ In killing, as he'd been asked to. ]

[diversionist]

[ the knife is in his hand, and he's considering setting it down or holding onto it for safekeeping or otherwise putting it away, when the child's hand grasps at his. he looks back up to meet gen's gaze, and it's then that the boy asks his question.

did he do the right thing?

it's impossible to know, of course, what the situation was. cassian can't blame the older gen for staying clear of this once stopped from killing the apparition, and he doubts the teenager will be eager to tell the story later. why would he? and what reason would cassian have to press? oh, he might argue that he's owed something for dealing with this child, and maybe he is, but it's put him in no real danger and there's no real benefit he'd get out of knowing. and even then, all he'd know is what the person this boy grew up to be thinks he knows about the circumstances. and what he'd feel worth sharing.

(what can cassian possibly say, about whether it's right or wrong to have killed someone? he did that and worse, for a cause that he believed in, for a better galaxy. was it worth it? wasn't it worth it?)

but: none of this is not that important right now. ]

You protected your friend, [ he assures. ] That's always the right thing.

[epiprocta]

[ It’s painfully obvious that that younger version of Gen had been holding his breath, waiting to see how Cassian responded — staring at him with desperate focus, small fingers squeezing weakly against Cassian’s hand. And when Cassian finally speaks those gentle, reassuring words, he lets out a hoarse breath. The tears that had been welling up in his eyes finally spill over when he nods and blinks once, twice, but some of the tension also drains from small shoulders; it’s willful, rather than out of fearful desperation when he squeezes hard at Cassian’s fingers and nods once more. ]

… okay. I — I thought so. [ One more ragged breath. But through tears, the child manages to meet Cassian’s eyes as he stands a little straighter and speaks, as clearly as he can, ] Thanks.

[ Past the breathless fear, there’s a note of genuine gratitude in that soft voice and in his watery gaze. No matter what Cassian might think about the necessity of killing in the long run, at least in this one moment, he’s managed to grant a ‘child’ incredible relief.

Then the child collapses into a pile of so many dead roots; even that small hand that been squeezing at Cassian’s withers away into so much plant matter, leaving a few scraggly strands tangled against his fingers. At the same time, their surroundings suddenly stir back to life — there’s the sound of movement and chatter resuming back on the main streets. And closer by, there’s the scuff of boots against the pavement, along with the rustle of fabric.

The original Gen, rounding the corner to glower at Cassian. The hardened scowl he wears is rather undermined by the way he’s leaning against the wall for support, his face still pale, and he stares contemptuously at that pile of dead roots for a moment before spitting off to the side. ]

Waste of fucking time.

[diversionist]

[ cassian doesn't move for a long moment.

he remains crouched, looking at the space where the child had been, regarding the dead plant matter on the ground, on his fingers. then he stands, brushing his hands against his pants to wipe the detritus away, and turns to face gen. he notices, of course, the cowl as much as the paleness, the unsteadiness. his own expression is cool, inscrutable. if he pities gen, if he felt anything for that ghost of a child, it doesn't show now. ]

It worked, didn't it? [ his voice is similarly inflectionless. ] We got it over with.

[epiprocta]

[ His initial plan had been to browbeat and threaten Cassian into promising to stay mum about all of this. Not because he thinks Cassian looks particularly gossipy, but because of the nature of this place -- he hasn't seen this guy around the Tribune, so he can't discount the chance of him belonging with Zenith. And the last thing he wants is someone on the other side having knowledge of one of his worst memories.

The only thing he hates more is just how often this place prods at and exposes the vulnerabilities he's always tried so hard to keep hidden.

But after a long moment of squinting at Cassian in obvious scrutiny, he gives a hard, dismissive huff; an ear flicks as he looks away. ]

Would've been faster to kill it. [ He says it flatly, as if throwing out a comment about burning a load of trash. It sounds like Cassian doesn't actually care enough about what happened, so -- probably not worth addressing that matter. ] -- so I could have handled it fine on my own. I don't owe you jack shit.

[ A much more reasonable grip, obviously. ]

[diversionist]

[ that's a new consideration, whether or not he wants to claim debt. technically speaking, he did get them out of this situation, this bubble in which they were trapped. he did talk down gen's child-doppelganger. he does have information about gen, a critical vulnerability. there's a cold part of his mind that considers all of this in an instant.

then cassian shrugs. ]

I guess you don't. We'll be able to leave the area now, [ as if gen doesn't know this, ] so we're done here.

[ is he going to introduce himself??? apparently not. instead, without saying anything else, he turns to leave. ]