beleos: (Default)
beleos ([personal profile] beleos) wrote in [community profile] kenoslogs2023-05-12 05:00 pm

The Seeds of Unrest: the Iconoclast Oracle


RUNNING OUT THE CLOCK
The situation is bleak.

The Blight - and the massive labyrinth of roots tearing both cities asunder, spreading deadly flowers wherever they penetrate - have progressed to a point beyond catastrophe. People are dying in rapid numbers. Bearers are having difficulty keeping up with the spread of infection - even among one another. The collapse of Kenos seems inevitable; a cure will not come in time. You can do nothing but watch as each new day brings further disaster, ticking down the seconds until it all falls apart.

And then, you feel something seize your Shard. As if physical fingers have wrapped around it, as if it is being clutched through you by invisible hands, you feel invaded. You feel wronged. But before you can panic, a voice enters your mind through Communion.

Excuse the dramatics, but there isn’t much time for pleasantries. The Trees are about to hit the point of no return. But there's still work to be done. The Tree of Life will take you where you can find it: the Oracle and the creature causing all this mess. Fix this when you find them. However you'd like.

Have you heard Aetos’ voice before? Perhaps it is the first time; perhaps it is familiar to you. Either way, the last thing you will remember is a confusing jumble: a spell of immense and incredible power, one utilizing the Tree’s strength to shelter you. The sensation of every cell in your body coming alive, yet seeming to break apart and render you into billions and billions of tiny pieces, all hovering in different times and places across all the different iterations, timelines, and realities in which you have ever existed. A voice that speaks not through words asking your forgiveness, unspeakably sad.

And then, there is nothing.

AWAKENING
Your eyes open, gritty with the feeling of a long, deep slumber.

Perhaps it takes a moment to shake off the heavy veil of exhaustion, to recollect what you were doing before you fell into this state of hibernation - but as soon as you do, you feel an immediate sense of foreboding around you. It is thick in the air, oppressive and pervasive, and you aren’t left long to wonder at its source. You lay beneath the branches of the Tree of Life, but as your bleary eyes focus… you see it. The Tree is all but bereft of life. Its bark has withered down to gnarled wood, the soft lichen dried up, and the grass that should be alive beneath you is long dead and gone. There is not so much as a single leaf on its decaying branches.

It has been this way for a long, long time... you realize this with a feeling of intense dread as you see it - the beautiful expanse of stars, of the cosmos, of universes scattered like starlight above the tree's boughs, gone. In its place hangs a sickly, ominously low-hanging, and dying sun ready to sing the end of everything.

You can't help but wonder how long Kenos has been in this state, but a sense of gratitude fills you as you realize that the Tree expended the last of its energies to protect you, the Bearers, during your state of rest. Had Aetos worked with the tree to see you sent here?

The next question comes quickly: how much time do you have left…? And can you find the Oracle before that time expires?

ABANDON HOPE (DAYS 1 & 2)
The cornerstones are still active and will take you to whichever city you wish to see.

Highstorm and Springstar sit like empty monuments to the cities that were once filled with life - yet the first thing you will notice is they are strangely absent the signs of the Tree’s overgrown roots, the Blight, the catastrophic damage that you can recall all too easily. Instead, each city sits as those they were summarily abandoned overnight, leaving nothing but their shells behind. There is a stillness in the air that is unnatural and unsettling. Despite the lack of any sign of the citizens of either city, you cannot help but feel… watched.

Something terrible happened here. Best you find the Oracle before something terrible finds you, instead.

The burning of a dying sun beats down on you wherever you go, unbearable heat sending waves off the aged cobblestone streets. Perhaps it is your instinct to seek refuge in the shade - but linger too long about the shadows and that feeling of eyes on your back, of being unable to breathe, of your world closing in around you will grow untenable and drive you back into the light. If you hope to explore the ghostly shell of your city in search of the Oracle - or to sate your curiosity, some problem-solving might be in order.

And while you acclimate yourself to your circumstances, you cannot help but note you feel wrong inside, somehow…

EXPLORATION

  • If your characters choose to explore previously unreachable areas, please use THIS TOPLEVEL to report when they get there in the thread! We will get back to you with what is discoverable in that location.
  • The following areas are off limits for exploration: below Yima’s Manor; below the Church of Heliopolis; Alenroux; Kowloon.
  • The Great Trees of both Highstorm and Springstar are in a similar state to the Tree of Life and will not respond to Communion.
  • Generally speaking, items will be of poor quality. Most will look as though they’ve aged thousands of years. Others will be in half-decent shape, but sparingly so. Oddly enough, it doesn’t seem like the whole city has aged at the same rate, so especially diligent rummagers can find worthwhile supplies. Please consider this should be rare and don’t go overboard!

NOTES

Here are some prompt reminders - see the full thing at the OOC Summary!
  • Characters will have a diluted connection to the Zenith or Meridian.
  • There will be periods powers are weakened or non-functional during days 1-2 (up to player discretion).
  • The sunlight results in scorching; the shadows cause claustrophobia and fear while outdoors.
THE RITUAL (DAYS 2+)
The place you started your journey to Kenos is also where it seems it will end. As soon as the first Bearer makes contact with the Iconoclast effigy, you are collectively drawn to the roots beneath the Tree - like a pang sent through your Shard. Your objective has been found. The Oracle awaits.

Trusting Aetos seems like a fool's errand, but you must put your hope in the Tree. What choice do you have left? It's time to find what lies at the end of this.

Bearers descend, your steps echoing in the dark, cavernous space. Once brimming with life and vitality, the roots are now dried and brittle like the bones of some ancient leviathan that died long ago. As you make their way deeper into the earth, the deadened roots twist, leading you to a vast chamber deep within it; the air here is thick with the smell of decay, and the faint glow of luminescent fungi and mosses barely illuminates the space.

To your left, the Bearers will notice what has drawn them here - and the object of their search.

An effigy sits on the ground between two darkened tunnels. The effigy is made of gnarled, dead branches woven together in a humanoid shape; its hollow, empty eyes are sightless, yet you cannot help but feel it is watching your every move. Branded on its forehead is the Iconoclast symbol carved into the rough wood.

Once all Bearers are present, the Ritual will begin. Your means of exit have been sealed off, and you are trapped, slowly deteriorating together…

NOTES

  • Bearers will have access to the Ritual Chamber which is a very wide, open space with the effigy situated against the far wall from the entrance. Several smaller tunnels off-shoot from the Ritual Chamber. They all run to dead ends; some are very small or narrow. This may afford you meager privacy away from the group.
  • Once a Bearer steps into the Chamber, they can no longer head back out the way they came. They’ll find themselves automatically walking back into the Chamber as if of their own volition.
  • For brevity’s sake we won’t list them out again here, but the complete description of effects Bearers will experience days 2+ is available in the OOC Summary.
  • The effigy is impervious to damage.
  • It Is Watching You.
  • In a dead-end root tunnel attached to the Iconoclast’s Chamber is the Blighted statue of an Otter that may be familiar to some… Please see THIS TOPLEVEL for more information!
THE PURGE (DAYS 5+)
The sap has festered in your veins for what feels like days. It’s impossible to tell how much time has passed; this place has no sunlight. The effigy watches as you remain trapped, huddled together around it, unable to leave as you find yourself sick with the affliction of the Meridian, Zenith - or both.

And then… something finally gives.

Though it does not move and speaks no words, you feel the effigy offering you guidance. Knowledge. Much like the Tree speaks to you in impressions and feelings, you are conveyed wisdom you did not have before: a way to take what you want and rid yourself of what you do not. A way to make your convictions known to all who would hear them. A way to be known. To write your path in blood, be it yours… or theirs.

When all is said and done, only one force - Zenith or Meridian - will gain its favor.

Show it who you are. Show it what resolve looks like to you - and what you are willing to do to attain it.

NOTES

Here are some prompt reminders - see the full thing at the OOC Summary!
  • You can Purge your alignment through various methods: Trading, Corrupting, or using the Effigy itself.
  • All characters will understand the end goal is for everyone to Harmonize; the alignment with the higher rate of Harmonized Bearers alive when time’s up wins the Oracle’s favor.
NOTES
  • A reminder that the Harmonization tally will take place on Friday, the 19th and be open through Monday, the 29th. The results will be released on Wednesday, the 31st OOCly.
  • Don’t forget to submit any deaths to the Death Tracker, with a gentle reminder characters will remain dead until the event conclusion!
  • Reminder to fill out the SETTING POLL ASAP if you haven't already!
  • Have some MUSIC if you'd like. LYRICS here!
  • HAVE FUN!!
CODING
baltimores: (101)

[personal profile] baltimores 2023-05-16 05:30 am (UTC)(link)
You ever hear of a sunk cost fallacy? The Isles are gone. Everything you and I and everyone else spent sand on there is gone. Doesn't matter what you think you're entitled to if it's gone.

[ This fucking Meridian bullshit... ]

Nobody is making you give an otter funeral rites. [ ???????? ] You wanna wake him back up and ask for your stuff back from him, how do you think that's gonna go? We can just end it now and be done with it.

[ What! About this! Is so hard to understand!! ]
warmare: (崩壊)

Eew there he is

[personal profile] warmare 2023-05-16 05:42 am (UTC)(link)
[He comes to her, fierce and storming, but Hayame does not give ground or waver, her insulted expression only growing more twisted and vicious on her face as he insults her, calls her a hypocrite, threatens to show her what an ultimatum does… but she is just desperately on edge as he is, and she can storm with the gods if she must.]

You made yourself responsible for them the minute you made a deal behind everyone’s backs to bring them into our ranks! Do not try to pretend they are the same when I have never volunteered to be Amos Burton’s keeper!

[She lashes back out in defense, convinced in this that she is right. The fact that they are all Zenites and all threats in their own way is true, but he is the one who brought those dogs into their house, and so he is the one who must take them back out and shoot them. It’s fair, it’s sensible-]

And you shut your mouth! You aren’t welcome here!

[She doesn’t know what god (what shadowy vision of a god) she addresses, but Hayame snarls in Osiris’ direction anyway, the snow-heavy wind of the mountain howling along with her, cold and chilling to the bone. (Even if she didn’t want to be, even if she missed warmth-)]

How can that gaki understand you? You are stronger than him, you are better than him!

[She wants him to be better. She needs him to be better. Isn’t he? That rat contracted with a demon of his own volition, he had nothing in him but spite, so why-

It only occurs to her then, in the midst of her howling rage, that Set had called them friends. Questioned it, yes, but in doing so implying that they were, that they had been, but… what does that even mean? How can they be friends, if he insists on fraternizing with every enemy that she makes? If he constantly seems poised to abandon the only possible way back to their worlds for the embrace of some cobbled together new one? How-]


How are we friends?

[She doesn’t even know what that’s like. She’s never had one. All her pathetic, accursed life-]

How, Set?

[Why does she sound so desperate to know?]
Edited 2023-05-16 05:44 (UTC)
vestments: (Default)

[personal profile] vestments 2023-05-16 05:54 am (UTC)(link)
( his eyes adjust though not by much. it's still very dark in here, but the sounds of her moving become louder, more deliberate; her voice is — familiar? familiar-ish? recognition that's vague and not quite steven's, formless and amorphous. green hair. steven frowns and it's more clearly thoughtful than the near-permanent frowns marc tends to wear, though it shifts into vague surprise as she tells him she thought he was dead.

(not him, he supposes. marc. the body—

ah. lottie.)

he's always hated attempting to navigate marc's life, marc's messes. he's willing to concede it hadn't exactly worked out well when their personal life had been his (mostly), their social life had been jake (mostly), and their — extracurricular life had been marc's, but it'd been sufficient for long enough. it'd been a form of balance they hadn't quite been able to hit on since and by now, he's out of practice.

steven can't imagine he's told her much about himself — deliberate or not, marc has always done an incredible impression of a man with no interests, no hobbies, and very few joys in life. a benefit in this situation, maybe, because steven isn't really sure where to start with it: I thought you'd died, and he almost comments that it wouldn't be the first time.

he glances towards a window — not helpful, the outside world is much the same as it has been for the last god knows how many hours: desolate, empty, aged. )


So did I, ( he settles on, wry agreement and dry amusement. ) I haven't met anyone else.
zauneyete: (Pointing with scissors)

[personal profile] zauneyete 2023-05-16 05:56 am (UTC)(link)
The creature [ he will not say Mister Tibbs ] made his bed. Whether he was able to look beyond his own station or not, he forged his steps.

I do not disagree that taking all he can provide would be wise, but he has already proven that he is willing to destroy us if given the opportunity.

I do not intend to let him put an end to this early.
passio: (pic#12181650)

[personal profile] passio 2023-05-16 06:13 am (UTC)(link)
[ dextera should be an easy target. his heart has always been vulnerable to suggestion, and the minute he arrived here in kenos, he was inclined to follow yima. it was only stubbornness—and a little fear—that brought him toward meridian in the end, and the warm safety of springstar helped him become more confident in his decision.

now, however, with all that snuffed out and the whole of them trapped underground to steadily go crazier and crazier, his firm sense of reason has given way to wild animal instinct.

he doesn’t want to die. that’s what keeps him fighting back, clinging to meridian energy even as zenith washes over him. ]


what’s the point? I’m so tired. It hurts. Bring him back, please—

[ his words run through open communion, not intended for amos, just a reflection of success and the mindset of dextera under the influence of zenith. ]

—no! [ then, a burst of light, even as dextera himself collapses back against the wall in trying to retreat. this time, it’s with direction. ] Why do you want to kill the world? Why won’t you listen?
eyesite: (7)

II-a.

[personal profile] eyesite 2023-05-16 06:16 am (UTC)(link)
( "john, you can't just give up like this."

he reacts without thinking to the voice, so real and present that its owner might as well have been sitting next to him; he flinches, shoulders bowing, and reaches up to roughly drag one hand down his face. it's mostly to obfuscate the pain in his expression. he tells himself that it's just cruel manipulation from the influence that crawls, sluggish and terrible, through his veins, replacing his blood. there's no other feasible explanation. the person the voice belongs to is one whose shard he has recently received. before he had come here, he had gone to his quarters in yima's manor to make certain it was where he had left it for safekeeping, enshrouded in soft cloth and locked within a small box he kept hidden in a secret compartment in his desk.

that having been said... were martin here, he has no doubt that this would be exactly what he would be saying to him. even if it was certain that there was no way to bring their world back from the Hell that it had become, he would still search to the end for the faintest glimmer of hope. and he would have done it out of compassion, rather than guilt or a feeling of necessity; it's something that, despite (or perhaps because) being a differentiating factor between them, he loves about him.

it means that he is stronger than john is. he just — he isn't willing to risk it. he can't, not again, not when he actually has a choice this time.

"we'll - we'll find another way. we'll go back to the Archives, face elias - a-at the very least we can't just allow him to get away with it. so, please, john - please —"

blessedly, liem interrupts this. john doesn't even look up to him before replying, )
Mr Talbott... Yes, please do. ( speaking to someone — anyone — will distract him from this (and he could do for far worse company than liem). it makes sense that the Meridian infected with the doubts of Zenith are pained, because it is always a terrible thing, to have hope challenged, tarnished, and potentially lost. so why, then, does john, tempered with hope instead, radiate with such self-defeated and piteous misery? it subsides somewhat as he focuses instead on his new company, but even then, that's just a temporary ripple along the surface of a pond. )
zauneyete: (Put a point on that)

silco | zenith | harbinger

[personal profile] zauneyete 2023-05-16 06:23 am (UTC)(link)
⊚ Abandon All Hope
➥ How Do You Do, Fellow Meridian? (Springstar)
[ The sun is high overhead. It beats down and burns like a spotlight cast from above. It's too hot, and there is little reprieve from it, especially for someone like Silco, who spends most of his time even here underground, if he can. He's squinting against the too-bright light, his now dual-dark sclera blinking against the too-bright sun as he moves to the next space in the sun-soaked paths of Springstar. He is, after all, "helping", and Set has done his part to remind Meridian that he's not an enemy. Look, his hands are even gloved, he can't do anything to harm anyone here.

Though, if he encounters a "fellow" Meridian, his smile is sharp, a touch too knowing, as he approaches, a tip of his head as he turned his head away from the sun to look at a new "companion" in refuge.
]

You don't need any help, do you? [ A beat, and then: ] That's what I'm here for, you know. To help.

[ Is he actually helping? Not really. He's just. Mostly looking for supplies, moving, and staying out of the sun as best he can, though he doesn't linger in shadow for long. He even leaned slightly forward and lowered his voice. ] I saw some supplies back in a storehouse. Perhaps you should find them before some... [ A laugh. ] Nasty little Zenite takes them, hm?

[ See? He's helping! Why are both of his eyes black? Don't worry about it. Set made a good deal, is what his tone suggests, though it is Silco. The supplies are rotten, so buyer -- dumpster diver -- beware. ]
➥ Black Hole Sun (Either City)
[ Not content to stay in the sun (ugh), Silco tries to find solace in some of the darker spaces, cloaked in shadow and outside of the oppressive reach of the sun. He hates it, being under it, but at the same time, the too-low, overly hot orb hovering in the sky makes Silco feel... not happy, no, but... anticipatory in a way he cannot describe. The promise of destruction -- even though his connection to Zenith feels strained and just out of reach -- it doesn't keep Silco from wanting to see it all burn still. He wants it, Craves it, because -- because it would be the end, and then --

In the shadow, Silco pats at his coat, but there's nothing in there that he's looking for. His fingers shake, but he tucks in to find a cigar, and a lighter he rarely uses, but he doesn't even get it lit before the cigar fell to the ground, and he started to...

He wheezes, trying to breathe but getting nowhere, almost asphyxiated from the feeling of ever-present eyes on him, and he stumbled out from the shade, and into the blinding sun -- does he run into someone? Does it matter? His eyes are wide and crazed, and if he looks around for a key insight to his location, as if he's searching for something with his two black eyes, it's probably fine. What is there to rush with here?
]

Out of my way --

[ He bit out, trying to shove whoever he had run into, as his feet stumble, and he's trying to escape the ever-present sun, the atmosphere of Springstar, even, as he tries to find the closest cornerstone.
➥ Haunted (Yima's Manor)
[ It's a promise that he's looking for supplies to Set, but it's a lie. It's nothing of the sort, and though Silco will be happy to provide them if he finds any on his way, he's quick to locate a cornerstone and teleport his way to Yima's manor in a way that can only be called desperate, if one knew Silco. As it is, the man strode, hands in his pockets, a cigar burning to a crisp under the too-hot sun clamped in his teeth. He doesn't even acknowledge anyone, either someone nearby or someone who followed, it can only be called a single-minded purpose that the crimelord very nearly booked it to the place that would allow him to find his way to the manor.

The tree, of course, overhead, looks sick, rotting. He wants it to, wants it to burn for taking someone away from him -- was it actually the tree's fault? Did it matter? -- but Silco doesn't spare it a glance, as soon as he's near the manor, within range, he closed a single eye, and focused, before he realized that he wasn't moving -- his powers sputtered and failed, as they were starting to do with more frequency -- before he only had a frustrated grunt, and with a look around -- as if he were suspicious, looking to make sure that nobody was watching (though it didn't stop him, even if he saw someone) he tore off, not running, but perhaps an old-man power walk would be more sufficient an explanation.

He has a place he is going to in the manor, clearly. A path he knows well, but it's wordless, his path. There's something he's looking for, though it's not obvious -- whether you followed him, or you meet him in the halls. If you're Meridian, it isn't clear where he's going, but if you're a Zenite, it's obvious, even if one doesn't know where his rooms are, he's clearly going for something in the shard-bearer quarters.
]

⊚ Ritualized
➥ Delving
[ Silco is one of the last to arrive down beneath the tree. It is intentional, and though it hurts to do so -- that pang that feels somewhere between pain and longing, it's an antithesis to everything he is, and everything he stands for. Silco is a man alone, always holding far and away from others, in every way, and being pulled toward something brings out a part of him that wants to be contrary, he wants to fight it, and he does for a time. He doesn't trust Aetós either, despite knowing the time mage better than...most. (Which really, isn't saying much) Though his distaste for the tree keeps him topside far longer until his search for other things forces him to abandon it, and he made his way down.

His powers sputter, and then die, the deeper he goes, and though he's angry -- furious for a reason that doesn't make sense to those that don't know that Silco hates this thing. The tree. Others can coddle and care for it all they want. Silco hates it, he wants it to burn -- and seeing it die had filled him with a vindictive thrill that he can no longer feel, as he found himself descending underneath the tree.

He tried to leave, of course. Of course he did. he tried to leave because he wanted to get out of here, but his feet find themselves walking back within. He finds himself settled close to the only ones he knows will not destroy him in his weakened state -- Sebastian and Set. He settled in for a long and arduous few days, though in the beginning, he only stares out at others, his twin-blackened eyes are angry, and hateful. He does not want to be here, and yet he has... no choice.
]
Tlatlacolli
[ His eye... doesn't burn. It's an unusual effect that has persisted since he'd murdered the god, and her blood had splashed into his ever-open, lidless eye. He's used to the pain, and it's been gone for long enough that Silco worries that something is wrong. Truly wrong. It's not like he doesn't hear other shard bearers whispering, or talking to themselves or invisible voices, but Silco can feel the presence of something -- someone behind him, hovering over his shoulder -- asking him why he was giving up on her? Why was he Abandoning his own daughter for an empty promise? Silco's eyes turned behind him, over and over, as if he thinks he could see her, but there was never anyone there.

But why does he feel a phantom presence, hovering over his head? The pressure of eyes watching him, a voice promising over and over that he was just giving up, and through communion, there's not just agitation, not just anger, there's uncontrolled disgust -- uncertainty -- as if there's a doubt in there that he can't quite shake. It's slaking off from the man in waves, and he hates it, even while the scars on his face look more and more wooden the longer the hours pass, like carved and rotted wood that makeup can't hope to cover. He can't help but clutch at his knees, staring out, anger the only reaction he has to what can only be called hope trying to blossom -- forced from something alien that leaves Silco feeling raw and disgusted. What hope was there for someone like him? For he and his people? They had nothing, they came from nothing -- dirty little things -- they called them, and whatever it was that tried to tug him toward something else sickened him, the longer it persisted.
]

It will not find such easy prey. [ He promised, his tone biting, perhaps to nobody in particular. ] Waste your effort all you want, but pray I do not find you.

[ He promised to the air, promising retribution for even daring to try to sway his steps -- if it is someone or something he could take revenge on. ]

⊚ Im-purge-fections
[ It all goes the same way, and Silco's hate propels him more than anything. He needs It out of him, this simpering questioning force that threatens to haunt him with visions and promises of something hovering at the edge of his vision. He needs it out desperately that Silco, who has rarely been seen without full clothing and gloves, tugs off his left glove, because there will be only one way to rid himself of this.

And he needs it gone. He needs it, and he will approach, whether you are familiar or a stranger, he seeks to do one of two things. Either he will trade forces with you, or, he will corrupt, though it's difficult to tell as he nears. He looks wooden and stiff, still filled with sap and the scar across his eye -- normally covered by makeup -- looks like it is fully just wood surrounding a black pit of an eye that glitters like a gemstone in the dim light. He crouched, though his knees practically creak when he does so, as he says:
]

Do you feel it? We must be near the end.

[ He says, with a placid, fake smile that's too stiff and too uncomfortable. He wars with himself. He both wants to embrace the end of it all, but there's something that... lingers, and fights him at every turn. He wants it out, he hates it with a fire that burned in his still glassy and blackened eyes. Even with the stiff and uncomfortable smile, it does little to mask the hate that burns there. There's something in this that he refuses, and the longer it settles in his bones, the longer he hears those whispers and questions, the more he hates the unbidden and altogether... uncharacteristic emotions like guilt and disgust that bubble and cascade off of him in waves. There was no room for lack of conviction in this man, and the experience of it is worn on him like a poorly-fitted suit. Too bulky and uncomfortable, like there's something about it that simply rankles.

Though at least he has enough presence of mind even now not to threaten his way into just taking what he wants. It is tempting, though, and Silco was not a man who took no for an answer lightly.
]

Perhaps it is fitting, that we rot alongside this disgusting thing, hm?

⊚ Wildcard!
[ If none of these work, and we made plans, hmu and I can write you a custom starter, or just tag in with whatever! ]
Edited 2023-05-16 06:24 (UTC)
passio: (pic#6016795)

[personal profile] passio 2023-05-16 06:27 am (UTC)(link)
[ he thinks the same of himself, so if he had insight into her categories, he wouldn’t protest. ]

I… don’t know if I can…

[ he’s afraid of how to word it, like saying the wrong thing will just get him killed here. perhaps if it comes to that, it would be just as productive to ask hayame to kill him. ]
baltimores: (027)

[personal profile] baltimores 2023-05-16 07:16 am (UTC)(link)
[ Amos can only assume it's some kind of trepidation that's bringing Hayame pause, the way she stares at his hands but makes no move towards them. It doesn't make sense otherwise; she's the one who had initiated this exchange and he'd very clearly laid out the terms. There's no more reason for them to wait.

And then she reaches out, her blood pressing against his shard, his fingers instinctively tightening so that her shard won't fall between them, and...

Oh.

It's a light curiosity skimming over the surface of his thoughts as with their connection comes her memory of a day some months ago. A completely innocuous one, by his standards — she'd invited him to a restaurant. The food was good. There was pollen in the air. They'd touched one another over the table some, and it had been warm and pleasant, and then it had been over.

Why is she thinking about that? flits across his mind, a light and airy thought taking brief flight over the maelstrom below, because it's easier.

Because underneath that is his heart in a vice, his lungs out of breath, his very being choked and strangled for what he needs back. Amos with a man and a woman, warming up his insides with a hearty swig of tequila on a snow-covered landscape, physically cold but emotionally warm thanks to the company he's keeping. With three other people, gathered around a table in a ship's galley, the environment cold and sterile and yet happy, a joy in the mundane of simply being around chosen family. A boy, battered and bruised, curled up on a threadbare-soft couch, his eyes peacefully shut and contented smile on his face as he rests his head in the lap of a woman who murmurs sweet nothings to him as she cards her fingers through his hair.

These are all good things, and beneath them all Amos is screaming as he reaches for them, hand outstretched as his lungs fill up with dirt and he suffocates kills himself under the burying burying burying of longing nostalgia to live without these people is not a life worth living he is the only one left he shouldn't be why can't he bring them here with him why can't he go back home he needs to go back home he has to be able to go back home...

And outwardly he is calm but for his face twisting in discomfort as emotions he can't understand has never opened himself up to roil around in his psyche in his soul, looking down at their hands and wondering why Hayame is thinking about that day in Springstar. ]
baltimores: (026)

[personal profile] baltimores 2023-05-16 07:46 am (UTC)(link)
[ He blinks, slow and heavy, at that soft feeling he's picking up from her. It feels nice when it brushes up against the foreign hells he's being assaulted with, can't escape because they're coming from within him — a soothing balm and merely a temporary one at that, since he can still feel Meridian's assault on him as it worms its way through every fibre of his being.

He forces his eyes back open. Sits up straighter, using the cavern wall for support. Amos' eyes are dull before she regains his focus, shifting from blank to receptive to confused by the time she's done. ]


But we are alone.

[ His brow lightly furrows as he says it, at the same time it feels like his heart is being squeezed, the yearning for his people back home intense enough for a moment that he stops breathing. And then there's a light gasp as he gets his air back, his chest rising with the sharp inhale. ]

I know we aren't... I know we're all stuck down here together. I know we're all feeling each other's shit. But we're alone. That's just how it is. I don't...

[ He has to stop as another wave of longing passes over him, his body shuddering with it. One of his hands falls to the ground as he scrabbles to find purchase in it, like that'll stabilize him again.

He looks back up to her, lost and distressed — but from what, he couldn't say. ]


I don't know what I'm feeling.

[ But she seems in far better spirits, so maybe she knows how to fight it? It's a spark of hope that brightens his eyes for a moment, as he looks to Quetzalcoatl for an answer. ]
baltimores: (073)

[personal profile] baltimores 2023-05-16 08:06 am (UTC)(link)
[ It's with an impassive air that Amos takes in Dextera's words, as he pushes the Zenith on him a little harder. That's. That's not quite what Zenith is supposed to do to people; he's never felt like giving up because of it, only at peace. Might just be an awkward Meridian reaction—

And then that burst of light dispels it all and Amos finds himself wincing, his mental assault dispersing entirely. He brings a hand up to shield his eyes, even though it's still dark down here; finds himself hunching over slightly as he finds his previous fingerholds in the cavern wall he'd been gripping and locks his hand back into them for stability. Security.

And after a beat he lowers that first hand as he looks up, around him, seeking out Dextera's form, because he has to be nearby... ]


Can't kill what's already dead. You're the one not listening. [ His tone is a little more strained now, frustrated as he looks for his energy reserves to try again. ] It'll be easier if you just lean into it.

[ It's not unkind advice, just... blunt, as Amos pushes himself off from the wall, starts to make his way down the tunnel. Maybe if he can physically get ahold of Dextera before trying again... ]
baltimores: (079)

[personal profile] baltimores 2023-05-16 08:46 am (UTC)(link)
[ His smile fades as he gets close enough to actually see the state Lottie's in, pale and down on the ground as she is. It's not like he can blame her — he'd felt that way too not long ago, before he'd reharmonized — but it still elicits a small, thoughtful frown as his hand falls to his side. As he crouches down in front of her, resting his elbows on his knees.

His now slightly spiky elbows, thanks to the beginnings of branches starting to offshoot from the backs of his arms. His hands come to a rest between his knees, mostly coated over by now; stiffened and rough and just something he's going to have to deal with for the time being. He tilts his head slightly at her answer, bark starting to intermingle with his beard at the sides of his face, little branches starting to poke through his temples like horns.

But Amos' face remains open, eyes expressive. There's doubt in them, not really buying her joke. Or her non-answer. But more than that there's concern, because Lottie is his fashionable friend who owns a store and a hair curler who shows him new lunch spots and introduces him to new coffee orders. And yeah, those aren't things here, but she is also decidedly not herself right now.

He sighs as he looks at her, debating if he should just accept her answer at face value and leave her alone, but there's something else off. He isn't entirely sure what it is, just that it's enough to make him stay. To press further. ]


You sure? [ And for as different as he's starting to appear now his voice is soft, friendly. ] I mean, I know we've been mired in the shit all week now, but I've never seen you like this before. Anything I can do?

[ He can't go on a coffee run or anything like that, but maybe there's still something? He just... Lottie's his friend, so the need to help her is strong. ]
baltimores: (069)

[personal profile] baltimores 2023-05-16 09:04 am (UTC)(link)
Yeah. [ He's Amos, yes; he's been very tired recently too, yes. Some of that weariness still sits in his bones, Meridian's influence on him fading but not forgotten, his body still carrying pieces of it with him before he can shed their memory entirely.

It has been an exhausting few days — but with Zenith comes clarity, and a light at the end of the tunnel. Thanks to that his expression remains amiable, a genuine happiness to see Dimitri even amid all this. ]


'ppreciate the thought, but it's alright. A lot's been going on since the Vander thing, huh. [ Which is one way of putting it, but still. Not like it isn't true. There's a sheepishness to him as he leans against the cavern wall, trying to make himself somewhat comfortable amid all this. Using it for support. ] Still working on getting my strength back, but, you know. It's coming.

[ A beat, as he takes a second to look Dimitri up and down, like he's evaluating him. His health. If there's anything he might need that Amos can give him or what. ]

You getting there too yet?
gravings: (070b)

+0 who knows

[personal profile] gravings 2023-05-16 09:07 am (UTC)(link)
I saw him recently... um, relatively speaking. He was at the Scorching Isles and looked unlike himself, almost like he was possessed. I wondered if he was somehow undead.

I think it would be worth trying to speak with him again, if we can. But if we can't... I think it might be kinder to end things for him.
baltimores: (142)

[personal profile] baltimores 2023-05-16 09:18 am (UTC)(link)
[ His eyebrows rise at Archangel's impromptu question, clearly not expecting that as he'd entered his space. Amos is resting against a wall facing the entrance, left to tilt his head back to look up at Archangel. ]

No clue. Not sure it even matters.

[ His voice is a tough rough from disuse; with a grunt, Amos pushes himself up off the floor. Sighs as he chooses to lean back against the wall instead, a haphazard glance off to the side — to where rotted and broken down possessions lay beyond another wall, with nothing of any real use left in here — before looking back at Archangel. ]

Apocalypse I've been through wasn't anything like this, either. That was when some asshole was chucking rocks at Earth. Had to trek through a nuclear winter and everything. [ A beat. ] Y'know, didn't realize how good I had it then.

[ He knows how good he's had it since — Highstorm has been good to him, a good home, practically a paradise — but apparently even back then, life wasn't so bad. ]

No asshole here, far as I can tell; nobody to chase down and kill. Not sure what else we can do.
baltimores: (064)

[personal profile] baltimores 2023-05-16 09:48 am (UTC)(link)
[ In a room further back from his entrance, Amos stops at the sound of his name. He hadn't necessarily been expecting to hear anyone, but at the same time... makes sense. ]

Yeah. Over here.

[ His voice is tired, resigned as he steps back out into what was once his lobby, rotted chairs and couches taking up some of the space. Floor might be comfier at this rate. He inclines his chin in greeting, lowers it. ]

Anything going on out there?
fishfearme: (neutral 2)

[personal profile] fishfearme 2023-05-16 11:36 am (UTC)(link)
Byleth.

[A.... very long beat.]

Mercenary. [He pivoted completely towards 'Flamebringer'. Odd name, but not the strangest one he's heard.] Meridian.
fishfearme: (sad)

[personal profile] fishfearme 2023-05-16 11:40 am (UTC)(link)
...

[Byleth's expression didn't change, but it was clear he was pondering the offer deeply. While he had asked Jyn if she was sure, he wasn't himself. He barely tolerated Communion as it was, so this... felt like several leaps beyond what he was comfortable with. But this corruption in his veins, this doubt, these voices, the swelling memories that were cast in such a vile light were almost too much to bear.

Which would be less painful?]


...understood. Ah, do you mind closing your eyes? I do not want to reveal the location of my shard. It is something I try to keep secret.
passio: (pic#12166655)

[personal profile] passio 2023-05-16 12:12 pm (UTC)(link)
[ dextera is used to pushing himself until he collapses, but the problem is that when this started, he was already on the brink. it’s taking all his energy just to keep amos—keep zenith—out of his head, but he’s afraid that if he stops for even a second, he’ll be taken over.

he needs hayame to fulfill the request he made. with that new goal in mind, he attempts to furtively dodge amos, but their connections now have opened him up for amos’ easy perusal. even though he’s trying to escape, there’s not really anywhere he can go. ]


Everything ends if you win.

[ he hates amos, but his concerns feel even bigger than that petty dislike at the moment. if he was feeling more himself, maybe he could muster his usual rage and frustration—but he’s barely dodging despair. ]

Let people have hope. Let them… even if it drives them crazy.
vallt: (28)

[personal profile] vallt 2023-05-16 12:14 pm (UTC)(link)
[the anxiety and tension rippling through the communion space, both her own and not, is acute. it's sharp. and, in some ways, it gives more ground to her choices; anyone who'd readily agree to something like this without it would be someone to have doubts about.

again, she nods, just to cement it.]


Of course.

[it's said more softly than anything she has so far as she does what she's told (maybe for once in her life), eyes sliding closed. because secrets, the vulnerable ones, are something to take seriously, something important — and jyn will guard what's important. in the shared space, it's possible he feels that genuine resolve.

still, she adds:]


You can trust me.

[(which has to go both ways, after all, doesn't it? she's making that choice now.)]
warmare: (武士)

[personal profile] warmare 2023-05-16 12:35 pm (UTC)(link)
[Dextera trails off, unwilling or unable to finish the sentence, but Hayame refuses to fill in the blanks herself. He has asked for help, but he does not say for what... and if she is to be the one to assume? Then she doubts he or any of the other soft-hearted of their number will relish in it.]

Can what?

[She will wait, but she will not accept a lack of answer.]
warmare: (見張る)

[personal profile] warmare 2023-05-16 01:38 pm (UTC)(link)
[There is a moment when Hayame almost laughs. Almost. Amos had told her how infuriated Voryn had been being called by the wrong name, the man himself had made such a great deal of how the demon Sebastian respected his name and that was what made him worth fraternizing with...

So-]


It's Vern Dagoth.

[Perhaps it was petty of her, to perpetuate the false name Amos had coined, but she does not care. It does not matter anyway, she is trying to say-]

- But, yes. That is what I mean.

[The Slavery Discourse™.]
dawnlord: (pic#16342895)

+1 SPARE

[personal profile] dawnlord 2023-05-16 02:02 pm (UTC)(link)
My my, my.

[ oh fuck is that Actual Cheer from him ]

I would like him spared. I do need a retainer, after all. And he is so very fluffy.
Edited 2023-05-16 14:06 (UTC)
sterngaze: (neutral: commish)

[personal profile] sterngaze 2023-05-16 02:39 pm (UTC)(link)
You saw him, Miss Gray?

[This is curious news, given that travel to the Scorching Isles became impossible after the Oracle battle there — at least, to Liem's knowledge.]

After we were returned from the Isles? How is that so?
warmare: (眼帯)

[personal profile] warmare 2023-05-16 02:41 pm (UTC)(link)
[Unlike most of the shard-bearers, Hayame has not lost a single ability or sense to the decoupling from their factions and then the poisonous mix of Zenith and Meridian energies. She had never relied on anything but her own body, and her body relied only on powerful centaurine biology and a lifetime of harsh training to forge herself into a weapon for humans.

But she has no masters any longer. She is a weapon only for herself, and for her duty to return to her world.

And right now... Zenith was standing in the way of one of the only things that promised a potential way out. More damningly... those weak-willed Meridians who let themselves be corrupted to Zenith's side were skewing the numbers.]


Who were you looking for, Fool of the Burning Gardens?

[She steps closer, clip clop muffled by the soft dirt of the tunnel floor, her expression steely and cold.]

Someone to whisper to in the dark?