![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
- arcane: vander,
- arknights: gavial,
- bastard!!: dark schneider,
- black butler: sieglinde sullivan,
- expanse (the): amos burton,
- fate/: quetzalcoatl,
- fate/: rin tohsaka,
- fire emblem: claude von riegan,
- genshin impact: tartaglia (childe),
- genshin impact: zhongli,
- granblue fantasy: eustace,
- magnus archives (the): the archivist,
- orv: dokja kim,
- star wars: cassian andor,
- star wars: jyn erso,
- trigun maximum: vash the stampede
The Seeds of Unrest, Phase Two 🌱
UPROOTED
Time has not been kind thus far, and the future will be no kinder.
The slow passage of days to weeks has seen both cities increasingly ravaged by the untamed growth of the enlarging roots. Their size is enough to uproot buildings by their foundations, if not bisect them entirely where they push through unfettered. In the worst-hit areas, entire blocks are left abandoned - if even standing at all, displacing families and leaving businesses in ruins.
Cetina and Kathova have been in near constant contact with Bearers via Communion, feeding them information about which areas to focus their lifesaving efforts. Yima’s Manor and the Seat of the Tribune - despite their closeness to the Trees - have been fortified by your leaders and act as a base of operations for each respective faction. You will be able to return to either to find sanctuary from the chaos beyond, but the innumerable civilians are not so lucky.
Bearers are tasked with rescue and recovery efforts and requested to assist hands on the ground with taking refugees to temporary shelters. Survivors must be dug out of the debris. Those who are capable of healing will be enlisted to assist at hospitals and triage centers. Supplies must be gathered and harvested from areas that are collapsed and too dangerous for civilians to navigate. If you are feeling generous, you can go on search and rescue missions, as many people are considered missing in both Highstorm and Springstar. Some areas are completely cut off to regular foot traffic by the massive, winding roots bearing countless Blight-blooms. Citizens are succumbing to the Blight flower’s effects persistent from phase one with more and more frequency.
While both cities slowly succumb to a deepening catastrophe, the situation worsens.
The slow passage of days to weeks has seen both cities increasingly ravaged by the untamed growth of the enlarging roots. Their size is enough to uproot buildings by their foundations, if not bisect them entirely where they push through unfettered. In the worst-hit areas, entire blocks are left abandoned - if even standing at all, displacing families and leaving businesses in ruins.
Cetina and Kathova have been in near constant contact with Bearers via Communion, feeding them information about which areas to focus their lifesaving efforts. Yima’s Manor and the Seat of the Tribune - despite their closeness to the Trees - have been fortified by your leaders and act as a base of operations for each respective faction. You will be able to return to either to find sanctuary from the chaos beyond, but the innumerable civilians are not so lucky.
Bearers are tasked with rescue and recovery efforts and requested to assist hands on the ground with taking refugees to temporary shelters. Survivors must be dug out of the debris. Those who are capable of healing will be enlisted to assist at hospitals and triage centers. Supplies must be gathered and harvested from areas that are collapsed and too dangerous for civilians to navigate. If you are feeling generous, you can go on search and rescue missions, as many people are considered missing in both Highstorm and Springstar. Some areas are completely cut off to regular foot traffic by the massive, winding roots bearing countless Blight-blooms. Citizens are succumbing to the Blight flower’s effects persistent from phase one with more and more frequency.
While both cities slowly succumb to a deepening catastrophe, the situation worsens.
STIRRING STORMS
As the days pass, inexplicable and unnatural weather occurrences will randomly plague both cities. They can last as long as a full day or as little as an hour before dissolving entirely.- Flurries: this snow is tainted by the Blight, making the snowfall look like ash. Any organic matter it touches will be affected by reopening wounds, re-infection of illnesses, or re-experiencing injuries that may have healed over years ago.
- Thunderstorms: these storms carry a frigid rainfall and heavy cloud cover, making already difficult-to-navigate disaster zones harder to clear. As each thunder bellow crashes overhead, you might swear you hear a familiar voice reaching out to you in the fading rumble… one that sends a message - either from the future or past.
- Fog: dense clouds of thick, freezing fog will roll in randomly, making visibility even more precarious. In your search for survivors - or your companions, you may find yourself coming face to face with someone else, instead: a version of yourself (or a companion) from another timeline. You may also hear your own voice calling out to you from within the fog, attempting to beckon you further into the mist.
- General Note: Exposure to any of the above weather patterns will increase your Blight infection.
THE BLIGHT COMES FOR ALL
As if it were not enough to see the cities that have become your salvation at the end of the Timestream falling to collapse and ruin, the Bearers will slowly begin to realize their previous immunity to the Blight is eroding. They will begin to show symptoms of infection that increase into May’s event. ( For more information on the effects of the Blight and purification methods, please see the OOC Summary. )
Now that their last bastion - the Bearers - are just as much in harm’s way as everyone else, the populous’s efforts to formulate a temporary stop-gap solution are being rushed to completion. Time is not on anyone’s side. They will continue to work with those who have been kind enough to volunteer their resources and brilliant minds - collecting materials and attempting to figure out a way to avert their otherwise inevitable destiny.
🌙 YIMA will stress for all Zenite Bearers to prioritize their well-being and to avoid unnecessary exposure, to manage their symptoms as much as possible. They must fight for their own survival to bring in the birth of a new universe - and their lives are too precious to risk. Beyond that, she asks them to save what they can of their people and their most critical structures with the understanding that hard choices may be necessary.
🌞 CYRUS will implore all Meridian Bearers to prioritize the general population's lives and turn their efforts to save as much of Springstar as they can. He will note that Bearers have ways to help keep one another from suffering too much contagion and to coordinate their usages appropriately, to keep one another safe, and watch their backs.
Now that their last bastion - the Bearers - are just as much in harm’s way as everyone else, the populous’s efforts to formulate a temporary stop-gap solution are being rushed to completion. Time is not on anyone’s side. They will continue to work with those who have been kind enough to volunteer their resources and brilliant minds - collecting materials and attempting to figure out a way to avert their otherwise inevitable destiny.
ORDERS
Orders from your leaders will come as soon as infections among the Bearers have been confirmed.🌙 YIMA will stress for all Zenite Bearers to prioritize their well-being and to avoid unnecessary exposure, to manage their symptoms as much as possible. They must fight for their own survival to bring in the birth of a new universe - and their lives are too precious to risk. Beyond that, she asks them to save what they can of their people and their most critical structures with the understanding that hard choices may be necessary.
🌞 CYRUS will implore all Meridian Bearers to prioritize the general population's lives and turn their efforts to save as much of Springstar as they can. He will note that Bearers have ways to help keep one another from suffering too much contagion and to coordinate their usages appropriately, to keep one another safe, and watch their backs.
ANOTHER EN-TREE-TY
The Tree of Life continues to sicken, yet - thankfully - the progression of the Blight is slow. Still, Bearers will find themselves occasionally compelled to take a moment to sit beneath its boughs and vibrant leaves, even as some begin to show signs of discoloration and rot. Any characters who sit with the Tree with the purple leaf they found on their person after phase one will find it warming to the touch, its veins laced with gold. This effect will be even more effective if taken into the cavernous roots beneath the Tree! While this may fill you with a temporary sense of calm, it doesn't seem to have any other effects... yet still, you are compelled, if not curious.
The Tree has offered you this gift for a reason. Perhaps you will find its use before long.
...As long as you - and Kenos - survive long enough to discover it.
The Tree has offered you this gift for a reason. Perhaps you will find its use before long.
...As long as you - and Kenos - survive long enough to discover it.
QUESTIONS
Re: QUESTIONS
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
Byleth | Meridian | Advocate
[Gruesome wounds were not unfamiliar to Byleth. Ever since Jeralt had taught him his very first healing spell, when Byleth was still too small to effectively wield a longsword, he'd quickly learned what a human looked like beneath their fragile skin. He also learned other vital things such as: how loud a person can scream, how humans can survive impossible wounds yet die to nothing at all, that the core temperature of a human body was hot enough to steam, if the air was cold enough.
He became desensitised to it, off and on the battlefield... and in the hastily erected triage centre he had offered his healing expertise to. It wasn't an established hospital, just a building that was still standing, set up close to one of the roots' epicentres - and through the doors a parade of civilians in various states of sickness or injury. Byleth, experienced in what a human can survive and what they could not, mentally catalogued who was a lost cause, who might live, and who'd survive, unless complications occurred.
Outwardly, he had more tact. Expressionless, unflappable, as if the chaos and stress of the environment simply bounced off him, he carefully directed those coming to the triage centre to their respective areas - the Blight victims quarantined in a separate hall, of course - and administered emergency healing magic on those who came in pissing blood and on death's door, for whatever good it did.
So, for anyone strolling in, either carrying wounded or needing healing themselves, they'll be met by Byleth: dead-eyed, tired, suspiciously dark stains on his equally dark tunics and... a clipboard and pencil in hand. Those tall enough or nosy enough would be able to see that the writing was incomprehensible to all but Byleth himself.
This is your Nurse Joy in these trying times. Enjoy?]
❈ II. Wildcard.
[If anyone wants to do anything specific with Byleth, hmu in the discord and I can make us a closed starter! When he's not being Nurse Joy, he'll also be in Alenroux to ensure their occupation isn't being negatively affected by the chaos happening in Springstar and Highstorm (and to take a break/avoid the Blight).]
cw: mild gore, radiation injury
still, it's easy to assume he needs it given how he's sat hunched on a bench and favouring his left arm, which at a glance does not look okay in the way radiation burns do not look okay. as soon as john is aware that he is no longer alone, he straightens up and proceeds to act like everything is fine because haha of course it is. ]
Well. You look like shit.
[ not that he's one to talk. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
I
He's just finished leading one group back to the hospital and he's pausing to draw a breath. To ease some of the ache out of his limbs. There's a familiar face and he glances up with a tired look. ]
Byleth. I didn't realize you were here.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
Vander | Exalt | Meridian
ii. rescue mission
iii. fog of
warblightiv. wildcard
I’m down for anything around rescue efforts, weird weather effects, or blight mitigation (or if you want to Blight Blast him, be my guest, lol). Hit me up if you want to plot or want a custom starter!
ii
I think you're right. Let me try...
[ He strips out of his coat and steps forward, examining the pile of stones and masonry and the nstarts at the top, first removing small pieces and then working down, trying to get some of the larger, heavier pieces out of the way. His muscles strain and there's a grunt of effort as he tugs one particularly large chunk free and sets it aside.
He's stronger than he looks. And he looks pretty strong. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
ii
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
i-a
(no subject)
quetzalcoatl - meridian - stargazer
ii — blight
iii — wildcard
i-b
A whole-ass dinosaur just lands 50 feet from you.
Actually it's the shadow that grabs his attention first, one big enough to blot out the sun. Given how obnoxiously sunny Springstar is on a regular day, that alone is enough of an anomaly for him to pause in his search and look up. Too big to be just a bird - maybe a monster of some kind?? - but the closer it is to landing the more he can only stand and stare. In fact, he's still squinting suspiciously at the winged creature when Quetz disembarks and runs over.
Were there always creatures like this in Springstar?
But then he's reminded of why he's actually out here, thanks Quetz, and he immediately nods towards all the slabs of fallen wall laid across each other. ]
There is, but I can't lift all the rubble on my own.
[ Because he is, alas, just a sad little normie right now. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
i-a
(no subject)
(no subject)
nnnoooo html
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
i - a
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
ii-b
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
Gavial | Advocate | Zenith
ii. downtime
iii. wildcard
Gavial’s going to be a busy-body running around Highstorm mostly, rescuing and healing people, dealing with Blight stuff, etc. I’m open for whatever, so hit me up if you want to plot or want a closed starter!
Closed starters
Sebastian
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
II
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
ii
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
i-a
(no subject)
(no subject)
Silco | Zenith | Harbinger
✦ HIGHSTORM ✦ MANUAL LABOR
✦ WILDCARD ✦
ratgrabs the ratman
Yet, it won’t stop her. There are people that she’s decided are her people, and they need help. It’s really as simple as that.
So, even though she feels a deep chill and fatigue, she’s on her way out of the Seat when something catches her attention—a smell. Her nose isn’t actually any more sensitive than a human’s, but it’s distinct and familiar, though not in a way she connects immediately. It’s just enough to get her to pause and look around for its source and try and connect the smell to a memory. She tries to follow it, and that hesitation is just enough for Silco to offload his Blight onto some poor, unsuspecting Meri. But it’s also enough for Quetzalcoatl to catch Silco before he retreats to invisibility. ]
You again—
[ His hostility in Highstorm was one thing, but here in Springstar, she’s not so forgiving. She holds her hand out to the side, and from a glow of golden light, an odd-lookiing sword materializes. Though she’d been conversational before, there’s no hesitation this time as she rapidly starts to close the distance between them. Luckily for Silco, it’s at least a decent amount of distance for him to react, and she’s not quite able to move as fast as she could normally. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
manual labor
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
SLIDES IN.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
Rin Tohsaka | Zenith | Harbinger ❉
try toignore most calls for help on that side unless she saw someone else actively struggling to rescue others. It's then that she'd pitch in. So feel free to have a little liberty with the following prompts with that in mind.)✧ 1. Care and Consequence
✧ 2. Pain & Persistence
✧ 3. Sweet Somnolence & Frights in Fog
✧ WILDCARD ✧
Closed Starters
✧GRAY✧
✧MORDRED✧
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
(no subject)
1/2
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
II
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
link 🍎 meridian, savant
[ It doesn't take 100 years for Link to come back to life this time. It's barely been a week when he emerges from a gossamer cocoon beneath the Tree, his head swimming with fading imprints of restless dreams. The only thing he brings back with him to the Seat of the Tribune are scattered memories of one, specific dream, and a horrible, chilling ache that clings to his spine and limbs.
He might be alive once again, but that doesn't mean he's whole. It takes another two days of recuperating at the Tribune before Link can leave his room to do anything besides eat. Having declined every offer for a retainer — even temporarily while he's recovering — he can be spotted shuffling to the mess hall attached to the dormitory to snatch a tray of food before hurriedly shuffling back. He talks to no one and doesn't even seem to notice anyone around him in the first place, eyes averted and deep in thought.
He's better on the third day. This time, he exits his room in time for fresh breakfast. Instead of shuffling along, there's some energy in his steps. His eyes scan the room as he enters, and he actually mutters a few hellos to others as he passes them by. With food in hand, he pauses at the end of the line to look out at the rows of tables — looking for someone, anyone, who can tell him what the hell he's missed for the past week.
After he takes a seat, he places his palms flat on the table and gazes at the person across from him. His expression is stiff and serious, like he has something he wants to say, but instead he says, quietly, ]
How are you holding up?
2. rescue
[ Cyrus doesn't need to ask twice. He didn't need to ask at all, really. The people he's lived among since being reborn in this world, the natives of Springstar and Highstorm alike, are suffering. They rely on the Shard-Bearers to protect them in times like this, and although Link is feeling far from capable at the moment, his self-doubt does not absolve him of the duty to help in whatever way he can. He starts, perhaps unexpectedly, with a trip to Highstorm to check on a handful of people in particular; he knows that other Meridian might scold him for doing so, but he simply wouldn't be able to assist in Springstar if he didn't check on them. The following day, he stays in Springstar — not just because he needs to focus on his own allies now, but because spending the day in Highstorm had felt strangely and distinctly uncomfortable, in a way that it never has before.
Link knows the streets of both Highstorm and Springstar well enough by now that even the destruction of important landmarks and buildings does not stop him from checking on the people he's worried about. He can be seen hurriedly weaving between civilians and soldiers alike on the way to his various destinations, although he is not so single-minded in his determination to get there that he won't stop and lend help in an emergency.
Unfortunately, there is little good news to be heard at each one of his stops. Some places, once familiar, have been reduced to a pile of oversized roots and rubble. Some are in the process of becoming similar piles. Others are whole, but deserted, its residents having evacuated... or so he hopes. ]
(a. casualties)
[ But there are a few whose status are not so easily discernible. Link lingers in front of these spots — a school, a store, a house — knocking insistently on the front door and squinting into the dark windows. There's no answer, no mark near the entrance to signify it's been swept and emptied, no notice of quarantine warning of Blight inside. He can't just leave, not knowing what's going on. What if the people he came to see are in there? What if they need help?
He's getting anxious and starting to consider breaking in when he feels a mental nudge. He can tell it's another Shard-Bearer, from the insidious intrusive thought that rises in the back of his mind, of turning to them and holding out his hand and expelling this freezing feeling that's started to accumulate around his Shard. But — no. He shoves the thought aside. Instead, he turns to face the intuited presence and calls out to them. ]
Greetings! Hello, over here! [ Raising his non-Blighted hand to wave them over, he does a poor job trying not to look so desperate. ] Do you know these folks, in here? [ He points, glancing back at the silent building. ] Do you know ... what happened to them? Where they are?
(b. recovery ~ springstar only)
[ Every day is worse. Quieter, emptier, colder, and somehow... slower. The sky, once burdened with ever-present sunlight, is darkened by ashy, unpredictable storm clouds. But is it hopeless? No. Link refuses to believe that Springstar is inching closer and closer to a death spiral, despite all signs pointing to that being the case. Something needs to change, yes, that much is clear, but that doesn't mean it's hopeless. There are still things that can be done to lessen the suffering of others, to buy time for someone somewhere to figure out a way to counteract the Blight and the roots, and to minimize the damage going forward... and if doing those things can make a difference, Link is going to do them. (And, in the meantime, continue to ignore what's happening within his own head and body.)
There's a never-ending list of ways to help, but today, Link finds himself helping Meridian soldiers and Shard-Bearers with containing a partially collapsed apartment building. The despair among the workers gathered is palpable. This collapse wasn't expected to happen so soon; roots and vines had been spotted, but it wasn't expected to become a severe risk for another few days. That assumption had been wrong. Half of the building's units are completely gone. The safety and accessibility of the remaining half has been rendered unknown. If it weren't for the screams of help that filter into the cold air from within the rubble and surviving portions alike, it would be easy to usher the evacuees towards the makeshift shelters nearby... but, a simple solution like that is no longer possible.
There are so many people milling about in a hurry that it would be easy to miss the diminutive Hylian, standing at the side of a pile of collapsed bricks and shattered glass, near the border of the collapse. ]
Somebody... Can somebody help me with this?
[ Although he yells out to no one and does not look out at the crowd towards anyone in particular, he knows there are people around who might hear him. And, maybe, who will take the time to come over. Standing on top of one of the thick, trunk-like vines, he's trying to lift away the remains of a heavy piece of wooden furniture. Although he's managed to lift it a few inches, he's straining just to keep from dropping it, and definitely can't get it all the way up on his own.
It would be simple to just put it down, to let it drop back into the position he'd found it in, but that isn't an option. ]
3. wildcard
((Or, tag him with something else! Link's OOC plotting comment is here; anything mentioned there is fair game. Or do you have an idea you'd like to hit me with?? That's definitely welcome too! in any event, you can poke me if you want to discuss. Also, I'm happy to match format, so if you'd like to switch to prose, go for it.))
rescue - b;
Got you--
[ Vash is hefting what appears to be the decidedly thick and sturdy armoire up alongside Link; between the two of them, they're able to leverage it up and fight gravity. ]
--hey, you see something?
[ if Link thinks he hears a trace of hope in the other Meridian's voice, it wouldn't be his imagination. the scene that's unfolded around them is... horrible. the cries of the trapped, the injured, the families of those whose bodies are buried beneath the rubble - it's a backdrop that is more than enough to turn the stomach and squeeze the heart. if Link's managed to sniff out a survivor, well--
that would be nothing but fantastic news. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
1.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
A WILDCARDY 1!!
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
wildcard!
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
3-a!
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
Gray | Meridian | Advocate
In the end, she does both -- working herself to the edge of ruin, crawling away before she falls apart, and back again. The work is merciless, compounded by the specters that begin to plague her. ]
A. Graves (Springstar)
B. Alternate reality (Springstar)
C. S.O.S. (Springstar)
Wildcard
C
Over and over again, he does it, because while Yima told them not to take risks, Silco cannot help but use the misery that the Blight promotes to bring it down upon his enemies. There is a power in having the Blight, power in using it, and he'd never once turned down using his power to get a leg-up on the competition. (Yet.)
The communion was uncontrolled, and Gray's request for help is met with cold. As cold as the Blight, like chill, polluted water, the sensations are similar enough that it's difficult to differentiate, even though Silco's communion has always felt like that. Sharp, cold, and painful. Even so, he does not recognize this person reaching out, which means it is either someone very desperate from Zenith, or given the location...well. ]
Where are you?
[ He thinks back, careful to control his intent, his thoughts. It's only a return question, even as he starts to peel away from the shadows, his invisibility like a cloak, though he does not trust that it will hold, given how high his Blight is, how stiff his limbs and feet feel, how cold it is. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
B
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
A
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
b
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
SIEGLINDE SULLIVAN (BLACK BUTLER) ❧ SAVANT (ZENITH)
FOR RIN ❧ WITCHES GET STITCHES
So she had to do all that she could to make up for it. And that meant getting to the hospital to help. Miss Tohsaka's message had come at an opportune time, and even though Sieglinde finds clinging to the older girl's back to be somewhat disgraceful compared to more elegant forms of transport... Well, it wasn't time for complaining.
Along the way though, picking occasionally through rubble caused by the roots and overgrown flowers breaking through Highstorm's streets... the young witch sees a flake of something pale land on her fellow's shoulder. Confused, she turns her face skyward, brow furrowing as she observes-]
Is that ash... ?
[Or is it snow... ?]
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
FOR AMOS ❧ CALL FOR SERVICE
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
Zhongli ❖ Advocate ❖ T1 Zenith
For Set
That was Zhongli's first thought as he opened his eyes to a rotted building in Highstorm, one of his own earthen constructs the only thing keeping it aloft. He waits for three heartbeats (one two three), and when he detects nothing living buried within, Zhongli dismisses the construct with a frustrated hand gesture. The entire structure tilts and wobbles precariously for a few seconds more before succumbing to the overwhelming power of the Blight.
It's wrong. All wrong. The darkened and narrow streets of residential and commercial area intertwined and the gothic peaks of architecture that make the city stand tall even when it is so much lower to the ground - this is not his city. These are not his people to protect. So how did he---?
He'd lost time again - is the only conclusion that Zhongli can think of as he turns on his heel and heads back toward his home city of Springstar. Surely this had to be a side effect of the Blight, and not something else. Not the ailment that eventually claimed every immortal being in Teyvat if battle did not return them to the earth first. Zhongli reaches up one hand to run down the side of his face, the exhale of relief barely audible when he finds no cracks or breaks in the surface. Good. Good.
The cries of the people of Highstorm and the responding shouts of the rescuers echo around him as Zhongli quickly makes his way out of the heart of Zenith. There's a nagging uncomfortable feeling that itches underneath his skin, demanding his attention with every step. Ah, the millennia of peace in Teyvat had made him complacent, tugging at his heart to save all that could be saved. But times of war did not allow for such generosities, and Zhongli had his own vows to keep.
(Perhaps when the Blight was properly contained in Springstar, he might return.)
And so as Zhongli finally makes his way toward the entrance to the prized city of the Meridian, thunder rumbles in the distant darkening clouds as another wave of Blight also makes its way on a similar path. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
Vash
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
Marc
(no subject)
(no subject)
Childe
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
parking my starter here;
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
jyn erso | iconoclast | unharmonized | what up
[what jyn may lack in size or physical strength, she more than makes up for in sheer determination.
these days, as the blight worsens, she's out from the first rays of sun in the morning until the last in the evening, moving with a purpose toward where someone is needed. she digs through rubble until her hands are raw and bleeding, pulling out the survivors she can (and sometimes, with a sickening feeling that never quite leaves her, has never actually left her at all, dead bodies). she carries people close to her own body weight toward safety, sees to it that they at least find some kind of shelter before setting off again. and she repeats the process over and over, no matter the bone-deep exhaustion that settles in more by the day.
because they hadn't asked for this — the people here, who just happen to be caught in the middle of bad and worse, seeing their homes destroyed and their families separated. and the power struggle between whatever voice is telling people to do what is so absurdly stupid and out of touch.
but on the ground, in the moment, jyn mostly even sets aside some of her worst tendencies toward others in service of a common goal, trading hostility for silence and a willingness to work cooperatively.
mostly.
anyone who so happens to not be standing in just the right place might earn themselves a curt, cold:]
Can't you see you're in the way? Move.
[well, you can't win them all.]
ii. blight
[when the cold comes for her, starting first in her chest and then spreading out to her limbs, jyn simply pushes on. it's not like she has time to indulge stopping to relieve a little discomfort, no matter how profound; she's never had time for that, because her life has had to be in constant motion since she was a child, and maybe she still doesn't give most of a shit about what voice in her head is telling her what, but there are things she does care about that need her ability to get to them as quickly as possible.
besides, who is she? cassian, with his ridiculous collection of coats?
piling on layers will only slow her her down.
what she doesn't bank on, however, is being slowed down without her own consent. she doesn't bank on her own body beginning to betray her.
the cold comes for her, and then it lingers, and then — a brick that she's moving disintegrates right in her hands. she tries to not think anything of it the first time, but then it happens again. and again.
the cold comes for her, and then it turns to ice, moving through her blood as she chatters her teeth, forcing her to double over.]
[still,] I'm fine, [she grits through said chattering teeth. it's an incredibly convincing lie.]
iii. wildcard
[doing my usual thing of two very general (and hopefully flexible) prompts with a third wildcard option! hit me up on the plotting post, at
rescues -- highstorm
It's in one of the periods where he needs rest, even if it's just propping himself up against a wall, trying to regain some of his strength. At her words, he gives her a stiff shrug.]
There's plenty of space to walk past.
[Though normally he wouldn't be so curt himself, the situation has left him frazzled and exhausted.]
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
blight, highstorm
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
i-springstar
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
rescues - highstorm;
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
cassian andor, iconoclast, unharmonized
→ set
tireless is a good word for him now. since the worsening of the blight, since the encroaching destruction had begun ripping apart both cities, cassian hasn't stopped moving. there's too much to do and too few hands do it, a state of affairs he's more than used to. there's no question in his mind of avoiding the blight, as the bearers' immunity begins to wane, or reserving certain efforts for those who have factions and powers and whatever else at their disposal. he's got two strong hands, anyway, and strong legs, and a determination to do what he can. digging through the rubble to find trapped survivors, venturing into dangerous areas to retrieve supplies, seeing people taken to shelters and medical care — he can do that as well as anyone, and he does.
there is a child, today. a little boy cassian has found, following frantic pleas from his father. it had involved wading through wreckage until he found the boy clinging to precariously balanced beams amidst the rubbled remains of what might have been the building where he lived. climbing up to the child had been — doable. his heart had pounded much harder than the effort really required, his feet unsteady, his breathing faster than it should be; but he'd pushed all of that aside in favor of the boy who needed saving. and it had been worth it, when he finally made it up to the child. cassian had allowed himself the brief luxury of relief as he picked the boy up, small arms going around his neck.
but going back to the ground presented its own challenges. he could only go part of the way down without use of his arms, then with the use of one arm, the other curled protectively around the child. he'd finally had to stop, swallowed, and asked the boy — much calmer than he really felt — if he could climb the rest of the way down and wait. it's easy, see, do you think you make it? and the boy had nodded, and the boy had made his way down, and cassian had watched with a sharp gaze, not taking his eyes off the child until both small feet came in contact with the ground. cassian had called down praise, and a reminder to wait for him.
and then it'd been time for him to climb down. he has, he'd reminded himself, already successfully scaled this structure once. going down is easier than going up. but with gravity clinging to him, dragging his weight down, and with less immediacy to his goal, he finds this — harder. his hands shake, going clammy, and he has to make a conscious effort to grip hand-holds without slipping. his boots slide against the rubble more than once, and each time his heart slams against his ribs. he thinks, sternly, pull yourself together, and does not let himself remember a white-lit data vault on scarif. he makes himself go down one step, then another, and then,
he slips. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
misa amane | exalt | zenith
✦ closed to GAVIAL
So, that's how she finds herself with Gavial, hiking around some of the more extreme disaster zones, where roots have completely upended entire blocks. A faint cry of help! can be heard from beneath the rubble, even if the survivor is not visible to the eye. ]
Oh! Did you hear that?
[ Misa leads them over to the source of the sound — and the person below makes a pained groan as some of the rubble shifts. ]
You wouldn't happen to be able to move some of this stuff, would you?
[ She asks, raising a brow at her companion. There's something of a lack of urgency in her efforts to save this person... but at least she's trying to puzzle out the best way to do it!! While she waits for Gavial to answer, she actually kneels down to peek through some of the rubble, her head passing through the solid concrete as if a ghost. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
✦ closed to ERNESTO
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
✦ closed to GEN
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
✦ closed to AKUA
YEEEE TY
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
✦ closed to DEXTERA
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
mamoru hijikata + iconoclast + meridian
2. I need a heroooooo (The prompt where it's about dealing with NPCs)
[He is also starting to believe that anything coming from everyone's cherished leaders also does not bode well.
Figures, really.]
3. And finally, the Fallout. (The symptoms - CW: mention of blood, drugs, withdrawal symptoms, consensual homicide, and manslaughter - his life, you guys....,.)
4. Wildcard.
[ooc: There is, sadly for Mams and amazingly for us, more nightmare fuel to approach if you'd rather be inclined to him sharing something else or him invading a nightmare in return. Here are mentioned other bits of his life that he can share, and feel free to reach out to me via plotting comment, discord (jackuzis#4761) or plurk (
Kitchen Nightmare
For example. Zhongli considered the Shard-Bearer with him an ally in spite of the facts that they pledged loyalty to opposing sides. Perhaps he had come here to seek out Mamoru specifically. Surely that reason would return to him shortly.
In the meantime: ]
Not to be a backseat cook.
[ Zhongli says being a backseat critique instead. ]
But I believe your students would improve much more quickly if you pointed out specifically the flaws of the dish. Or even better, have them point out the flaws themselves.
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
2b;
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
nightmares - b
cw. well. this is gross.
that's rough buddy
...
...
...
...
...
...
2a
(no subject)
3b~
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
3-A
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
3-c;
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
vash the stampede ▰ closed starters
▰ gen
it's an understatement; of course it is - but with pain and exhaustion beginning to weigh down the faces of the population, it's hard not to try and grapple for a bit of hope and levity in tough times. Vash's barely-established routine of being bullied by the gaggle of kids who frequent the neighborhoods he likes to prowl had been interrupted before it barely had time to begin, and he's missing it already as he walks the street come late evening. the skies are overcast, the sun's light obscured by ominous storm clouds that haven't yet given way to whatever ill portent they'd pour down. it almost is as dark as a proper night is meant to be.
he's heading back in the direction of Heliopolis, dirtied and admittedly tired after fishing survivors from yet another collapsed portion of the city had taken much longer than it needed to. one of the rescue team's members had succumbed to his Blight mid-operation and it hadn't been pretty; like a domino effect, everything had taken a turn for the worse after that.
it's a sadly common story. he wonders if the woman who kept speaking about her children was able to find them; he doesn't think they were with her when the building went down, but she was so rattled... that look in her eyes had been--
--oh God--
he hadn't been paying attention, fatigue (and, perhaps, the slow and insidious creep of the Blight) having dulled his senses - and next thing he knows, he's wandered his way into another precarious situation with an almost comical sense of timing.
...
about twenty minutes later, Gen might be making his way past a sizeable sinkhole where the shifting roots had loosened and swallowed up the earth beneath that a gloved hand suddenly juts out from broken cobblestone to grip an ankle, and a pitiful voice croaks out from below, ]
Wait! Don't just keep WALKING, SOS, man down, man down!!
[ and from somewhere deeper (??) in the sinkhole comes a distant, low THUD, followed by an ominous, decidedly irate human roar of outrage.
uh, maybe he has. a friend? ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
▰ melshi. cassian. baby coat guy
(no subject)
cw: violence, blood, serious injury (to NPC)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
▰ eustace
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
▰ quetz
help
there is no help for u here, only stupid 😌
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
▰ dokja
THANKS PRINCE
it would be really funny if dokja just forgets all about this soon as vash walks away
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
the archivist, harbinger, zenith & makoto, iconoclast, unharmonized
closed to set:
he's done it before. he knows he has, even if the memories are odd, vague, half-realized things that form and then fade like phantoms in dense fog. it's these same half-remembrances that caused him to go out into the streets of springstar and find a weaponsmith to place a special order with. he would have never had need for such a thing in hell — in that place, where perception of power is what constructs its very real architecture and the only thing that could promise a permanent death is the misuse of a name, physical violence was a tawdry side-show and a sultry delight. but walking the streets of springstar had given him an unnatural wariness; it had been one which had made his hands itch towards the outside line of his thigh where he knew he should have a dagger holstered, and he had full well known how to use it.
he would have never bothered with such a thing in hell. how strange and new a creature he had developed into in horos — and he can still feel the trappings of that other self wrapped up within himself, persisting even though he has trouble recalling any of that time (had it been weeks? months? years?) with any acuity or accuracy.
if he were that different version of himself, he knows he would not be stuck in this situation. and perhaps if he were still the demon he had been in hell, freshly decided to bend his master into loving him in order to guarantee his pained destruction, he would have made the much smarter decision of simply staying close to the heliopolis until all of this insanity finally bothered to settle down. but he is the bastardized median of the two, too unfettered by caution but also too restricted in ability to do what he knows he should be able to. he feels as though both of those other selves would be embarrassed by him as he is now, furious at his impotence, but he can't seem to find any willingness within him to accept Harmonization, even if it was his only path to regaining what few abilities he had.
because the strongest through-line of what he does remember about horos is that he had been used. he had been manipulated, influenced, and dominated, turned into a pawn of a power he accepted but not to the extent that it had bent him to. he refuses to allow that to happen to him again.
and so, because of that stubborn refusal, he is now trapped. he had been walking down a street, a passing-by observer of the very real anguish of others motivated by little more than casual curiosity, when one of the mammoth tree roots had extended down the road he'd been traveling along. given its speed, the only path open to him had been to the side, into the waiting, open door of one of the abandoned buildings there. it's miraculous that the structural damage and the falling stone and mortar hadn't already done him in, but as it is, he's stuck. the doors and windows are blocked. the stairwells have collapsed. he has no pathway upwards or out.
there is only one viable pathway to freedom that he has found. just above the huge vine-like root, there is a section of the ceiling which has crumbled away, revealing the skyline of the still-standing buildings on the other side of the road and the vast blue beyond. it's into this makoto stares, thinking of how all the barriers he faces now are self-imposed, yet too furiously stubborn to do anything about it.
though, if any movement passed by that narrow window into the outside world, he would start and shout out to it, not so ruined by pride that he would sabotage any and all ways he might find his way out of this. or, at least, not yet. )
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
closed to amos:
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
closed to rosaria:
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
amos burton | exalt | zenith
[ These are his people. Amos doesn't have much to anchor him to this world — to any world — but one thing he knows for sure is that as a Zenite, as a citizen of Highstorm, these are his people.
He's tried to help throughout the month, and as the situation worsens, it's all he can do but try to keep up. Try, and fail, because things have grown exponentially worse, as though all of his previous efforts were for naught. Maybe a few lives saved here, a building preserved there, but with the way the roots have grown and the flowers won't stop—
He suits up and gets to work, because it's the only constructive thing he knows how to do.
Technically, he should maybe be at a triage centre; harmonizing with the Zenith has taught him how to heal people. Strengthens that connection he should have with them. But Amos can also near-singlehandedly excavate a collapsed building, so it makes more sense to him to be out in the field. Anyone he locates he can heal on the spot, at least. Why go through the extra steps of moving injured citizens somewhere else when he can take care of it as soon as he finds them?
Speaking of...
It's when Amos is in the midst of lifting a particularly hefty piece of debris out of the way that he has to momentarily pause, tilt his head as though he's trying to listen for something. He finishes following through on the motion, standing up straight again as he lifts with his legs — but without disposing of it just yet, he turns to his closest companion. ]
Did you hear someone?
ii. blighted (highstorm)
[ He's heeded Yima's words. He has. Amos had noticed the chill creeping along his body, had seen the beginnings of frostbite along his extremities whenever he'd stopped to take a break, but hadn't thought too much of it. It's fucking cold here, and he's been outside a lot. It was probably inevitable.
What is probably not inevitable is the way he can't even remember when he'd lost his appetite; just that he has. When his insides start to churn for no reason at all, when things start to feel painfully, painfully wrong. When his skin pales, when he appears flushed, when his reliable body starts to falter in a way it never has before. It's not a cold, and for as much as he wants to listen to Yima — for as much as he's already started to pull back — he knows he's already fucked himself.
It's out at one triage centre or another where, when reaching for a blanket — as if that's going to do anything for this persistent cold he feels — it falls apart in his hands, threadbare and rotted. It is also then that he realizes he is completely useless as a healer at the moment, that all he's doing here is taking up space — and it's not like he can take a bed or anything, because the way things are going, that'll probably fall apart on him, too.
He's left standing there for a moment, helplessly staring down at the blanket's remnants, before he abruptly excuses himself. Steps outside, and... shit, he should probably just sequester himself in his home, shouldn't he. And not touch anything, because that's probably going to go poorly now. So asking for help wouldn't make much sense either; who is he to condemn someone to his own shit?
Except, of course, he could really use someone's help. It's maybe the one benefit to feeling so crappy that his pace is slow; that virtually anyone could catch up to him on his way out. ]
iii. wildcard
[ feel free to modify either prompt above, or go with whatever works best for you! arii#6412,
ii
But things hadn't stayed simple, and the seeming invulnerability they had to the Blight began to wane, and suddenly helping people wasn't so easy, leaving Atsumu floundering again. It's not that he feels particular good about the idea of leaving people to die, but he very much wants to live himself, and with a blanket permission given, he was all too willing to draw back and keep himself safe.
Mostly...
Atsumu might be an asshole, and Atsumu might have the self-centered world view of a teenager, but Atsumu isn't so terrible that he doesn't feel some amount of guilt for holing away safely while some of the other Shard-bearers keep at the whole hero business.
So he does one of the few, small things he can think of, something that in theory doesn't put him at too much risk, and that's to haul supplies to the medical centers that are taking in all the Blight patients. Things aren't easy to maneuver around at this point, and with so much falling to ruin, those supplies are needed. He can lug things from the manor to the various triages once a day, and feel some small sense of having done enough.
It's during this time that he sees Amos standing outside of one, though he doesn't stop to question him as he nods in lieu of a proper greeting, wanting to drop off his stuff and get the hell out of there. He'd probably leave just as quickly too as he offloads what he has, but the strange pile of ash that people seem to be avoiding snags his attention and has him asking questions.
By the time Atsumu is rushing out of the center, Amos is far enough down the road that he can't be seen, though he's far enough away that Atsumu has to raise his voice into a yell as he starts to sprint towards him. ]
Hey!!
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
i.
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
set ( savant, meridian )
— quetzalcoatl.
Despite its lonely location, the shrine had been beautiful when he had arrived; it was more beautiful now: attended to and lived-in as it is, the environment lush and verdant, enhanced over and over by the presence and power of a desert god, bringing life and fertility to the land against all odds. Some plush throws have been brought to the shrine, accompanied by indulgent, sleek pillows and the presence of wine jugs, a pretty hookah pipe, stray tomes borrowed from the various libraries of Kenos. In comparison to Set's austere, empty room in Heliopolis, the shrine is clearly where all of his personality and attachment shines.
( Hidden within, the sword of his son rests far from prying eyes, as well. ) ]
This is it, [ he tells Quetzalcoatl, ] I found it, assisting researchers on an expedition. It has taken months for me to lay proper claim to the immediate area, and I had hoped to secure a route through the Beyond to it — for potential adherents to be able to visit.
[ Not that he thinks HE'LL get any, but. Maybe, with Quetzalcoatl nearby?
Also, Ruby. Ruby, who keeps her pet dragon out here. It's there, slumbering away within the shrine — safe, kept far from the eyes of anyone who could endanger her or her sweet little monster! ]
I had thought to offer it as sanctuary to the cities, but I have not the room for people who may wish to flee en masse. There is supposedly a grander temple, far in the north, though — I may claim it, too. [ Added, with the smug-cat tone of someone going oh?? i got something before you did?: ] We ought to find you one.
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
— john archivist.
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
— ruby.
because pax is a masochist!!
(no subject)
...
Claude von Riegan | Meridian | Stargazer
CLOSED - HAYAME
But there's no use in hand-wringing over possibilities. Then as now, he's learned it's better to take action in a crisis and leave the thinking for later. Claude's doing his best to help with clearing rubble, carrying survivors, patching up wounds as best he can before taking the injured parties to safety. Much like in the war, the harrowing scenes he sees, too, are things he will have to push to the back of his mind for later.
Even Heliopolis hasn't escaped unscathed, though at least the communion from Cyrus indicates their leader is still alive, even if the Seat of the Tribune itself took damage. Around this area at least, Claude's leaving the heftier work to the military, heading to a collapsed block of housing to see in what ways he can assist, bringing water and some supplies he's been able to scavenge to help the wounded.
It's around that time he spots a certain jinba ahead, and he has to clumsily climb over a fallen marble column to reach her as he calls.]
Hayame! You okay? [He's relieved she's safe, at least.]
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
closed.
akua.
It's during a period of contemplative silence that he nods off, still leaning against one cold wall. Not a particularly restful sleep by any means, but it's apparently deep enough to allow him to dream. If only they were nice dreams, but all the dreams he'd had lately have been troublesome at best and tonight's is no different.
He's back in the skydoms, boots crunching across snowy ground as a frozen tundra spreads out around him. Though, in an unusual turn of events, he's headed away from it rather than towards, his destination slowly growing in size in the distance. A port city, the only one on this island, and at the edge of which stand a pair of figures. Next to them hovers a small winged creature - a dragon, who calls out cheerfully upon catching sight of him. ]
Hey Sourpuss! You're finally back!
(no subject)
i'm so sorry akua has to play peanut gallery for like three tags
...