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

[baltimores]

[ In contrast, Amos doesn't take his eyes off of Gen. Or maybe it's in similarity, because he's watching Gen the way Gen had watched him repair his arm. Amos doesn't really need to do a whole lot of observing with machines or technology here; people, though? Even if they're people he knows well, even if they're someone he shares an aspect with — it's still good to observe. Especially for someone like him, who's never going to be whole. Never got the chance, his growth stunted before it could even really begin. He gets to see, to feel Gen try, and that's more than enough for him.

Though his eyes do flutter shut for a moment as he feels Gen's anger, wants to take it in for himself. That's the natural response. That's the one he knows best. Of everything that's been cut off from him, rage was never one of them, like it made up for everything else.

And then it dulls, fades, and he opens his eyes to take in the change. Shifts his head to look at the same nothing on the ground that Gen is when he speaks again. Clasps his hands between his knees, one thumb rubbing in agitation over his other hand. ]

Yeah, I did. Won out a couple of times, actually. Managed to kill the boss, managed to build a life for myself before the universe died. I hear what you're saying, I do. It's just...

[ And he can feel that almost possessive concern brushing against his own feelings, where the lines blur between them, and it's. It's so familiar in a way he wouldn't have expected from Gen, in a way that he isn't sure if he's still stuck in the wrong mindset or what, but it doesn't change how soothing it is. To have someone else care about him like that, whether he's five or thirty-five. ]

... It's hollow. You tell me I still feel stuff, and I believe you, because you wouldn't lie about that to me. But there's no real satisfaction in winning. I just... moved on to the next thing. And the next, and the next, and the next, and now I'm here. But if I'd died it wouldn't have really mattered, same as how it didn't when they all did.

[ Because for as much as he may still have emotions, they're buried under layers of nothing. For as much as he cares, as he wants to try, he always needs that little bit of extra help — and isn't it odd that Gen's been someone who's done that for him before, might be doing it again now.

Staring at his hands, Amos finally unclasps them. Tentatively moves one to Gen's knee, broad and callused and a tool of murder, to gently rest it there. And then seeks his eyes again.

Where his voice had been hollow before, there's a rawness that creeps into it now. Quiet, but rough, and maybe a little too sincere. ]

You should come home.

[ To Highstorm. To Zenith. Because Gen looks better than he has in a while. Because Gen probably asked him to come to Springstar for a reason. Because Gen probably has a life here, and that's... not where Amos wants him. That's not where he'll be safe, that's not where they can look after one another, it's not... it's not right.

And maybe it's selfish of him to ask Gen to drop everything he's built for himself to come back to him, but fuck it, he's allowed to be selfish sometimes. Now, after all this, would qualify. ]

[epiprocta]

[ 'It's hollow,' Amos says, and it's not like he doesn't get it. He'll never fully understand the magnitude to which Amos has been damaged, but he has some inkling of how meaningless a lot of things can feel in the wake of monumental pain. He can at least start to see how Amos might struggle to understand his own emotions, but still ... has it really been meaningless? Surely not. It would have mattered, had Amos died alongside everyone else in his world. It would have mattered if he hadn't ended up catapulted into this strange other world so they could cross paths, right?

His expression had slowly growing tighter with traces of discomfort, struggling to find a way to put his thoughts into words; the connection between them, too, had been growing prickly with something hot and confrontational, a desire to argue that hadn't yet found a form to take. Hand clenched to a fist hard enough for his nails to dig into his palm, he hesitates for a moment too long before managing to mutter, ]

It would've mattered ...

[ Only to lose that train of thought entirely at what Amos says next.

The way he gives a wide-eyed blink, brow furrowed and pointy ears canted back, makes it clear he's taken aback by that request, both by its content and the way it's delivered. Ergo, it's completely honest when he responds, flatly: ]

Zenith isn't my home. [ But there's only the briefest pause before he looks aside, adding more quietly, ] Not that this place is my home, either. Meridian.

[ 'Home.' It's a weird concept for him. Sure, he'd had a 'home' back in his hometown, but he can't really remember a time where he'd felt fully comfortable there. Even before his stepmother had come into the picture, followed by his half-sister -- two people who'd barely tolerated his presence -- he'd always felt a disconnect between himself and his home. He'd always known that he'd been made wrong in the first place, and no matter how well he camouflaged himself, the expectant stares from his father and the rest of the townsfolk would always feel like needles in his back.

He's not sure if that platonic ideal of a 'home' is even attainable for him.

As if the gentle waves of something morose pulsing through their thoughts isn't indication enough, Gen's ears are flattened back when he looks down into his hands, then at the hand resting at his knee. He knows the gravity of it, knows that Amos wouldn't say something like that to him lightly. And it's not like he's rejecting that request, either. When he speaks again, it's soft and resigned. ]

I thought things would be different this time, if I didn't just go where people expect me to be. I'm sick of it, of just doing what I'm expected to, and things never seem to go right. So I'm here right now, but -- ... [ 'I thought,' he says. So he's already accepted the contrary. ] ... I know I don't belong on this side.

[baltimores]

[ There is a flutter at the notion that his death — a hypothetical permanent one that has yet to come to pass — would matter. Something shaky, uncertain, surprised; a too-sudden exhale, the sensation of feeling someone else's heart skip a beat, jitter. Odd, and out of place, and maybe not bad, but...

Not real. All hypotheticals. So everything smooths out, because it still doesn't really matter. And maybe the only times any of his deaths have mattered were when he hurt Gen, Misa, Kaeya, but nothing more.

They have more important shit to see to now, anyway. For as much as Amos won't shy away from comfort, it still feels too raw to do much of anything other than curl up into a ball and rest his head on someone's lap, let them stroke his hair and physically sooth him, and Gen is... not the person he would be seeking that from. No; with him it's easier to turn his focus to him. Because he may not be a kid anymore, but he went through some shit when he was one that left him damaged, stunted, and Amos knows exactly what that's like. Knows it's his job to help someone there. Wants to, maybe more than anything else.

He doesn't take his eyes off of him. Doesn't move his hand. Just waits, and listens, and it's... a different kind of hollow. Two ships passing in the night on what they missed out on, shattered in different ways.

Maybe together they could make a whole person. Oh well. ]

Where do you think you'd be happier? [ His voice is soft; his thumb is tracing light circles on Gen's knee. ] Fuck the expectations or what people want from you, me included. Where would you feel most right? Because that's where you should go. Drop everything else and just go there, because nobody's ever gonna look out for you as much as you are for yourself.

[ He falls silent, thumb still circling. Because for as much as he could profess altruism here, there's still that selfish component to his words, his actions. They're both Exalts, so Gen probably gets it. That need to be with your people, to look out for them, to protect them. They have this moment to themselves right now, sure, but that's all it is: a moment. It isn't anything longer term the way it would be if they were on the same side, in the same city, working towards the same thing, and there is a longing for that again. Because as shit as where they came from was, it did bring them together, and keep them together, and if Amos' death would have mattered then that has to have meant something, too.

His thumb slows. Stops. ]

And if it happens to be with me, you know I'll have your back. Nothing else'll matter.

[ And if it isn't with Amos, with Zenith, with Yima, then he... doesn't want to think about it.

But he knows Gen, he's pretty sure. So it should all work out, one way or another. ]

[epiprocta]

[ 'Where do you think you'd be happier?' Amos asks, and Gen meets his gaze in silence. And though it only lasts for a moment before he looks aside once more, even that one moment is telling. His expression is hollow and weary, the corner of his lip quirked up in a humorless smile, like he's just been told a terrible joke. It's so hard to imagine himself finding happiness, regardless of where he goes. As long as he's himself, he can't imagine his future being anything more than a mediocre gray haze, simply tolerable at best. ]

... you know it's not that simple. [ He doesn't bother saying that, though, simply moving onto Amos' next point. The bit about dropping everything and leaving. As if ] If it were up to me, I wouldn't be a part of this whole mess. Wouldn't bother dealing with either side. ... might've been nice if I could just pretend to be a normal person here and live like that.

[ But they both know that isn't viable. Even the short time he'd spent unharmonized had been tough, and his eventual entanglement back into matters involving the Shard Bearers had gone poorly. He has to choose a side, one way or another. So.

He'd been watching the slow circle of Amos's thumb against his knee, and he gives a soft exhale when it stops. Simply looks at it for a moment longer before raising his hand -- the one that's still his, skin warm and tactile feedback intact -- to pat the back of Amos' hand. A gesture that might have been condescending if aimed at anyone else, in any other context. But here and now, there's no such ulterior motive. ]

I know, though.

[ A faint sensation warms at the edge of the connection between them. Fondness, maybe. Or rather -- trust. Unlike the more volatile flare of his negative emotions, this one runs steady and quiet; his trust in others is hard-won, but in exchange, it sits deep-rooted and firm. ]

I know you have my back. You think I would've called anyone else for help like this? Even if they knew their way around machines the same way you did? [ The thought is laughable. ] ... s'why I asked you to take care of him, too. The shard. I wouldn't have left it with anyone else.

[ In a way, saying that out loud helps something click into place. It's not like he'd ever forgotten he'd left Reiji with Amos -- how could he, when that Shard is the object he holds most dear in this entire shitty world -- but thinking about it in such concrete terms is a potent reminder of just how much he's entrusted to Amos. Maybe it's selfish to have strayed for so long after leaving Amos with that duty. Maybe trying to seek freedom for himself alone was pointless. Maybe he really is just better off returning to that side, where he at least knows he'll belong.

It's probably not the answer Amos hoped for, but at least there's a quiet gravity when Gen finally adds, quiet and somber: ]

... I'll think about it. Properly. I promise.

[ About going back 'home.' ]

[baltimores]

[ His eyes flick down as Gen covers his hand with his own, his gaze staying there as he feels that warmth trust provides seeping in and under the cracks of his own emotions. There isn't much there on his end, faint and buried; what Gen provides him, though, he understands instantly. Would let the floodgates open, if a flood was going to come at all.

But he knows one won't, because that's just the way they are. The both of them. Which is fine, because he can still welcome what he's getting. Let it fall into the cracks where his own buried feelings lie, keep it there and hold it there, as permanent a fixture as emotions for him can be.

He won't move his hand, won't so much as twitch a finger, as long as Gen's is on top of his. It's a small way to turn himself over completely to him, to let him retain his agency after everything he's done for Amos; after the way he'd helped Timmy. Because he'd cared enough to try, and had cared enough to succeed. Because Amos owes him in more ways than one, from kicking his ass so he'd stop wallowing in self-pity to taking on one of the more impossible challenges for him mere moments ago.

And because there is a faint fear, a creeping dread moving at a glacial pace, that for as long as Gen isn't with Zenith, Amos might not be able to repay him in kind. He would never want to hurt him, but he's good at swallowing shit he doesn't want to do in order to accomplish shit that needs to be done. And for as long as Gen is technically the enemy — not his, never his, but his people's — then that remains a possibility.

But he can't say shit like if you don't come home, I can't protect you. It's the truth, but he knows enough to know it's what a piece of shit would say. Someone who manipulates and gaslights others into a shitty situation, and yeah, he'll do that too, but he won't do that to Gen. Kill him if he absolutely needs to, yes. Abuse him? Never.

So his hand doesn't move. His eyes stay on it, on Gen's. That warmth of trust meets the slow and cold oozing of a trepidation of a possible future. And Amos parts his lips slightly, ready to say something and not sure what, before his fingers tighten slightly to give Gen's knee a light squeeze, maintain a proper grip, before looking up into his eyes again, searching them for an honesty he damn well already knows is there. ]

I know you will. And I'll... whatever happens, I'll never hurt him. Ever. [ Reiji, and that's one element he can mean wholeheartedly, because only a sick fuck would ever do anything to that shard — and for everything that's broken about Amos, he is not that. ] I just... there'll be an end. One way or another, everything ends. [ Zenite, Zenite, Zenite. ] You'll get there. If I can, I'll help you. But until then...

[ Until then what? He doesn't fucking know. Amos leans over to cover Gen's hand with his free one, hold it there for a couple of seconds before pulling it back. It was an awkward way to twist his body. He doesn't want to be too weird about shit, come on too strong. Whatever. His hand still on Gen's knee slackens, could easily be pushed away whenever. ]

Look, just don't forget who you're here for. You and I are the same, so I know that's how we both operate. You hold on to that, and you'll make it through just fine.

[ Because that's exactly what he's doing, and he has all the confidence in the world that he'll come out of everything okay — so of course it would be the same for Gen.

It could not possibly be any other way. ]