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
epiprocta: (05)

[personal profile] epiprocta 2023-05-17 01:15 am (UTC)(link)
Haa? [ Gen's memory isn't bad for what it is, but with his head full to bursting with too many thoughts and his pulse pounding in his ears, he needs far too long to realize what Voryn is talking about. Given the way he fixes a bleary, wild-eyed stare on Voryn in silence for a solid few seconds, it must be obvious when the slow gears in his head finally click into place and he gives a low scoff. ] Oh. You're that guy.

[ His memories are still hazy, but he does recall enough. The strange, grandiose way this man had spoken, along with his insistence on acting noble. And also -- his seemingly steadfast belief in Meridian.

Sure, he can work with this.

The corners of Gen's lips rise in a lopsided, wolfish smirk as he slowly eases himself forth another half-step to crowd into Voryn's personal space; that grip on the other's arm doesn't relent, even knowing he'd come close to being struck. His voice is low with a note of something conspiratorial when he drawls, ]


Well -- what was it you said back then? You gotta be there to protect the weak Meridian, or something? You're sooo noble and cool. But you're not in any state to do that right now, are you? [ A meaningful pause before he continues. ] I can help you get there, you know.
redsoil: (pic#16220628)

[personal profile] redsoil 2023-05-17 01:23 am (UTC)(link)
Well, the soul is the seat of experience and personality, and no personality is without its multitude of facets. The final unification of soul and body occurs after the death of our mortals by proper offerings, and knowing the proper spells. However, until that individual survives the perils of Duat they are always at risk of experiencing a second death. If successful, they become akh and live forever in the afterlife, and some even appear upon the body of my mother — Nut — as stars.

[ it varies, but that's one route he knows of

sourly, he adds: ]
Duat is that. Yes. My brother, Osiris, is the god that oversees it.
intervener: (▥ heliotrope.)

[personal profile] intervener 2023-05-17 01:27 am (UTC)(link)
[ he had asked why his companion had embraced the Zenith, yes: and the answer comes in a flood Vash was not expecting.

the line where he ends and Cassian begins (Cassian - this sly bitch) and Vash ends fuzzes; blurs. there are moments where there is little separating them, if anything at all; he can feel the hopelessness, the yearning, the grief and loss, the anger, bitter like choking on bile in his throat as if it were his own. he can see planets from the stars in a way he has not since he was a child consumed by tyranny and a sense of profound sadness.

planets lost, cities lost, people lost. time lost, years lost - a hope for this man's own peaceful future, lost. pieces of Cassian's life rush by in painful snippets, leaving nothing but a sense of acceptance and resolve behind.

it has to be - is - incredibly ironic that the man sitting opposite him, seized in this wide-eyed daze as it all washes over him, represents the other side of the coin as if in perfect dichotomy. Vash wants to speak, some visceral desire to undo what's been done overtaking him as the totality of Cassian's feelings pervade him - but it's too late. and like a dream shifting, nonsensical and yet perfectly comprehensible to a dreamer's mind, Vash's regret is swallowed up by the blistering heat of sister suns high in the too-blue sky.

...the sun-scorched deserts of No Man's Land are blinding; there are bodies half-buried in the sand, the wreckages of the SEED ships sitting like broken monoliths in an otherwise empty landscape. countless graves, countless bullets, the heavy stench of gunpowder and grease and blood. so many faces; towns; places. people. children grown older, friends grown older, friends who never got to grow at all. friends turned enemies for a few double dollars; trust betrayed; hopes crushed. so much violence and fear; hands pressed against the glass of a bulb again and again and again; apologies; guilt. exploitation. destruction.

and yet all of it is softened by arms slung jovially around his neck and raucous laughter in a saloon over a game of cards, or by being wrestled down to the ground beneath a gaggle of children pulling at lanky limbs, or the clink of a glass shared with a dark-haired shitty priest, the scent of cigarette smoke drowning out the stench of blood. or a woman's face scrunched with tears - even if you're in the dark right now, the blank ticket in your hand is just waiting to be filled in--

countless, innumerable names and faces he's memorized down to the last reaching out and showing him kindness. so, so many people who struggled in that unforgiving, barren place because they had no other choices. Rem's sacrifice--

Wolfwood.

Cassian was right. just like him, just like everything he's given - it can't all be for nothing. everything... all of it - the people. their struggles, their pain, their desperate bid to keep going, the way they have kept going despite all the odds against them. all the people gone, all the people who gave something precious up along the way, all the people that overcame those who tried to steal everything from them but couldn't--

he believes in them. he believes the bridges will connect, that they will find their hard-earned peace. it will all be for something, and it isn't something anyone can give them.

they have already earned it. they built it.

it's all of them. he isn't losing a single one. ]
epiprocta: (55)

let's say fairly early on once the purge starts!

[personal profile] epiprocta 2023-05-17 01:30 am (UTC)(link)
[ His head hurts, his thoughts are hazy, his pulse feels like it's echoing through his ribcage and up his throat to ring in his skull. He'd made his way down this tiny corridor in search of someplace quiet and sequestered in hopes of getting some rest, but he's not even sure if he'd gotten any rest there. How much time's even passed since they've ended up here? He hauls himself back to his feet just because he feels restless, but it feels so difficult bringing himself to move; he's just leaning against a wall, shoulders hunched and head resting against the uneven surface when he hears that familiar voice. ]

... Silco.

[ That name leaves his lips at a bleary mumble before his mind catches up.

His first thought is -- you killed Gray, you son of a bitch. His second thought is that he's in no real condition to pursue that line of thought. And his third thought is ... doesn't Silco have that stuff that's feels really good? (Maybe it'd help ward off how he feels like he's about to fall apart?)

Strange how that third thought lingers at the back of his mind. ]


What d'you want. [ Gen needs to clear his throat before he can muster those words, though Silco might note that, despite the caustic wording, they're oddly lacking in true hostility. ] Come to offer me a trade? [ Instead, it's that second bit that comes out grudging. The thought of accepting any more Meridian is now starting to feel wrong. ]
redsoil: (pic#16220603)

thank god

[personal profile] redsoil 2023-05-17 01:46 am (UTC)(link)
I am helping! Just because it is not in the way that you would, does not mean my efforts are wrong.

[ Why? What is that so hard for her to understand? ]

I am not the one coming to your Communion to belittle and berate you, when I do not agree with your ways. And mark me, I do not always agree with you Hayame, but I know your heart is in the right place. I know you are a warrior who I see has the potential to become truly peerless, but not if you insist on remaining upon this narrow path. It will break you, and I cannot bear to see that happen to you.

[ How can the two of them be friends? Because he wills it so. Because Set is not the kind of individual who accepts companionship readily, he does not know how to make friends. His best friend was his own sister, and Isis and he have injured one another too deeply to ever recover; will that be how it is with Hayame? How does he convey the depth of feeling that he experiences, as foreign and vast as it is? Certainly, the emotions resemble those of mortals, but they are richer, deeper, often wilder than can be described by language alone. She snaps at the ghost of his brother and, maybe,

it isn't that he's had enough, but that he needs her to understand. They are friends, why? Because ]


Because —

Even now, like this. We will not leave one another, right? I would never leave you, just because I think you are frustrating, and because you hate the people I hang out with. I would never even think of abandoning you!
consolation: (2809166 (53))

[personal profile] consolation 2023-05-17 01:53 am (UTC)(link)
Amos. [She interjects with just an absolutely horrible and pond-still placidity to her tone.]

Don't you think he should suffer the disaster he help to create? He won't feel sorry enough to appease everyone crying for equal repayment. This would be a forced penitence.

[A fate that sounds a little more purgatorial than just putting a final, firm end to the saga.]
redsoil: (pic#16220704)

FROM AFAR, AN OBSERVER.

[personal profile] redsoil 2023-05-17 02:09 am (UTC)(link)
[ There was no doubt in his mind, once they all became trapped in their too-small prison and forced to devour one another in pursuit of their victory, that she would find him. There was only so long, that Set and Silco could juggle Sebastian between them. Only so long that he could shelter in the shadows cast by their bodies and avoid direct contact with the jinba warrior who wanted him dead, destroyed. Set has been waiting for this, with all the gravitas of a wwe superfan observing the grudge match of the century.

Hayame is beautiful, incandescent in her madness. Her hatred of the demon she seeks to erase from the world something that Set has never tried to soothe, perhaps only stoke by his proximity to the one who she loathes. Sebastian Michaelis, he lifts not a finger to aid — if he dies, it would be pitiable and unsatisfying; after all, the war god wants nothing more than the animosity between them to grow, to fester. For their vengeances against one another to become crueler and more twisted, until one of them crushes the other's spirit entirely.

( He is so proud. His warrior. His demon. Animosity that feeds him, that he will sup upon and draw into himself. ) And wild enough in his joy, that he forgets the struggle within him in order to loop his arms around Silco's narrow waist, to half-lift the man from where he stands upon the earth alongside him and just — crush him into feral, bruising hug and spin around with him, laughing in unadulterated delight. It's clear that while Set is clever, while he is sly and sometimes stupid as well, he is deeply into the chaos that blossoms in the wake of the pair. He shivers, eyes wide and enraptured with the destructive force of Hayame, biting his lip at the sudden impression of Sebastian's true self.

He squeezes Silco a little, laughing brightly into his ear. Get crushed, ratman. ]
epiprocta: (85)

[personal profile] epiprocta 2023-05-17 02:12 am (UTC)(link)
[ That pang of desperation earns a sharp flinch, followed by a snapped: ] You think any of us are here 'cause we wanna be?

[ That shitty retort comes easy and without hesitation, because being abrasive is basically second nature for him. But his words are almost entirely lacking in venom -- Gen sounds far more tired than he does derisive, and he gives a low exhale afterwards.

His bootsoles scuff against the ground when he steps closer, then wearily plunks himself down to take a seat next to Dextera. Not so close that their shoulders are touching, but close enough that his presence is impossible to ignore. It's not entirely an altruistic gesture -- for Gen, that proximity and physical sensation helps keep him a little grounded, too. ]


... get your shit together. [ His exhaustion is made exponentially clearer through Communion, though along with it comes a chilling undercurrent of grim acceptance. Gen lets his head thump back against the wall behind them, sighing. ] You believe in all that Meridian shit, don't you?
redsoil: (pic#16427627)

SILCO & SEBASTIAN.

[personal profile] redsoil 2023-05-17 02:23 am (UTC)(link)
[ Set has always been a curious creature; a free-spirited divinity that patrolled the borders of Egypt and bumped elbows with foreign travelers, merchants and gods from neighboring territories. For a long time, he left Egypt's lands more often than he remained there, visiting foreign dignitaries and residing in the company of pantheons that were not his own — some younger, some older, some as close to him as his own siblings were. To learn of them and their ways, their cultures and values, was to be better prepared to face them; it is a core trait he brings to Kenos, as well.

Hence, his alliance with Silco. Hence, his willingness to learn from a demon.

Hence, his desire to immediately go to the Viomichanikós District and seek out whatever was behind its tightly controlled borders. There is a locked door, and he wants to open it. This man predates Pandora by centuries, and will always, always seek to sate his curiosity. To share it with others, Meridian or Zenith, to ensure they know better, they are wizened and can make better choices. So that they can rue the choices they have made, and suffer knowing they should have done more, done better. ]


Mark my words, I do not care if this casts Springstar in a poor light. I know the two of you will spin a tale if you need to, but I also know you are as curious about the nature of this world — in the same exact way I am. What knowledge we find, we can use to strengthen ourselves.

[ All three are smart ( and stupid ), and value their strength. They seek more, and that is why he is willing to work with them. Few others care to look beyond the battle for the Oracle, and take advantage of the opportunity that presents itself in the form of an abandoned city, ripe for the pickings. Set brings the two of them into the burning, painful depths of Springstar, familiar with the city enough to be a commendable guide. He holds a parasol over his Zenite companions, the holes in it patched with a difficult application of his Meridian-based spells: lacy, red-colored wisteria blossoms pool over the side and bulk out its protective capacity.

At the mouth of the industrial district, he points. The tallest warehouse in Viomichanikós no longer spills smoke into the sky, but it is his goal nonetheless. ]


What do you think? Shall we see what is hiding?
sterngaze: (neutral: commish)

[personal profile] sterngaze 2023-05-17 02:29 am (UTC)(link)
[The words hit him like hailstones rattling a windowpane, stinging but not breaking through. You stink of Zenith.

Very suddenly, he remembers the scene on that deserted Veneran street, where they had met almost just like this. He wonders at that — at how Hayame seems to keep setting herself up to be disappointed by him, specifically, although he can't think of anything he's done to deserve her esteem.

Reluctantly, he turns to look up at her, taking his hand from the root wall to stand straight as she watches him. On his face is the same solemn impassivity that he has worn under the scathing regard of priests, superiors, sheriffs, village tribunes, lords and ladies alike. He does his best not to let it falter, although her condemnation makes shame prickle over his skin.

For a long moment, he can't quite force himself to speak.
]

I am.

[Harmonized with Zenith. Purged of Meridian's light and its hope.]

What light I had, I relinquished.
redsoil: (pic#16220823)

im-purge-fections (jail for jill) w/ a twist

[personal profile] redsoil 2023-05-17 02:40 am (UTC)(link)
I almost wonder, what you would be like as Meridian.

[ Set's voice is contemplative, but the edge of his curiosity is sometimes far too close to the threat of action to be comforting to some. In the narrow alcove he has wedged himself and Silco into, protective against the coercion and corruption and violence occurring beyond, in the belly of their prison, they must sit with their legs aligned, knees crooked. It is like two children, their hips pressed together and spines bowed, hiding in a place from the reality of the world. Except, they are not children and they are not hiding. In Communion, he is bound deeper to Silco than he is any other; for Silco had made the choice to spare him, in the early days of the Blight. To shed blood for a god, who shed blood to him in return.

It is not trust ( it cannot be trust, for trust will evoke something beyond that which they can stand — ), but there is a deeper understanding that passes between them. The impression of knowledge they now share, that cleaves Set to Silco. That allows him to comprehend his reasons for the destruction of all things, his hatred and loathing. Nephthys would weep, to know that Set's heart sang the same song as Silco's — and that if he stood one step to the right, they would be perfectly aligned in desire. ]


Do not frown at me, either. Humor me. While we are here, and the world is there.
consolation: (10)

[personal profile] consolation 2023-05-17 02:45 am (UTC)(link)
After all things, do you still wish to be kind?

[She'll just let that philosophical question linger, like dew that's seconds away from evaporating in the morning sun. The fate of the damn (and damned) otter is going to have be dealt with sooner or later]

Possession can take many forms, but whether he has a viable soul is still up for debate. Why did you think that?
sterngaze: (neutral: commish)

[personal profile] sterngaze 2023-05-17 02:53 am (UTC)(link)
[Who is this person, and what have they done with Byleth, who was just weeks ago telling Liem that he missed having someone trustworthy to tell him what to do? He certainly had plenty of qualms then, and plenty of concern over what to do with them. Whoever has taken his place, they have not only confidence to spare, but a somewhat strange vocabulary as well.]

Little one?

[He raises an eyebrow, slightly. If Liem's taste in heels ran even an inch higher, the two of them would be of a height. And he knows he doesn't look particularly young.]

I know where my heart lies. I have only to shed the last clinging vestiges of light from it.

[A creature like him didn't belong in the light, after all. Surely there could be nothing more sensible than a man with vampire's blood in his veins shunning Springstar and its twin suns in favour of Highstorm's eternal night.]

Should I be concerned that Mister Eisner does not appear to be present at the moment?
wolof: I craved the taste of it (A poison so sweet)

ii

[personal profile] wolof 2023-05-17 03:15 am (UTC)(link)
[ Weakness is a dangerous thing to any Praesi. In the belly of these roots, Akua Sahelian is weak. Weaker than even when she had been powerless upon arrival. Here, she can feel her gift just out of reach, and the incessant dark whispers of Zenith plague her every turn. She feels the need to give in, just accept it. Know that Cyrus and Meridian cannot bring her world back -- if some backwater continent deserved her attention at all -- for what did she even know of the rest of Creation? Little, for she'd never traveled beyond the great seas.

She recognizes weakness in the other bearers, too. She had been long-trained to do so. She had known what it was to seek out weakness, or uncertainty, because it was required.

She sees someone she does not recognize, fiddling with a knife, and she approached. Her steps on these softened roots do not click like they do on stone, but the woman shifts against bark, intending to announce her presence. Her fingers on the bark, her dark skin almost looks like it could blend with it, if she stood still long enough, as the...corruption from the tree takes greater hold of her. Flowers blossom between her braids, and spill out, each petal dark as night, barely visible in dim light. Her lips quirk into a slight smile, and she held up her hands, as if she were begging restraint.
]

You looked alone, over here.

[ She said, drawing near. ]

Can you also not sleep?
wolof: (Always Red and Hearts)

iiia

[personal profile] wolof 2023-05-17 03:24 am (UTC)(link)
[ It is an old, familiar whisper in Akua's own mind. She imagines she can almost hear Catherine in the back of her voice, asking her why she's pretending for these people, when they both know she is a villain through and through. If their world was destroyed -- if the Ealamael had its way, what is there worth saving? -- but Akua knows that this voice must be a lie. It has to, right?

What was all the guilt she felt, if it wasn't worthwhile?

She sits, alone, shaking. She is easy prey to Amos, who knew that there was only one thing that kept her from harmonizing as it was. Had she not immediately reverted, when the one memory of her greatest sin was taken away? When the thing that she had done, was fully removed?

She could have been Zenith -- could so easily go that way. Her limbs look wooden, and the spill of pitch black flowers blooming from her hair is barely visible until close, but her head snapped up, and she looked at Amos when he approached, her jaw clenched tight. She had not forgotten, had not forgiven his first sin. But he had willingly joined up with her and Hayame to save Vander, so perhaps there was flexibility there.
]

Why do you even ask? Unless you are here to trade...

[ She pumps all of her resolve into being steel, when she feels shaky, and uncertain herself.

She has only felt this uncertain once before, and her heart aches from it.
]
hyperpotamous: (004)

[personal profile] hyperpotamous 2023-05-17 03:29 am (UTC)(link)
[ he splays his hands and shrugs because he was being facetious with that comment anyway. ]

"My fellow Meridians"? That's cute, though I've never been timid about the fact that I'm not doing this for the team. I don't care if you or anyone else ever goes back. [ he laughs a little like it's silly anyone would ever think otherwise. ] I only want one thing, and you couldn't imagine what I would be willing to do to make it happen.

[ john was willing to deny the truth to people he cared about far more, even when confronted, so he does it again now without much thought. ]

So, whose company I keep is really none of your business, is it?
gravings: (069.3b)

[personal profile] gravings 2023-05-17 03:30 am (UTC)(link)
[ hi caren ]

The crueler the death, the more bound the soul will be to vengeance in the afterlife. Giving him a clean death will be safer for everyone.

[ To her ghost-fearing self, angry spirits should be avoided at all costs. ]

I don't know if he was possessed in the... traditional way. He just seemed terribly different to the way he was before. It felt wrong.
epiprocta: (52)

[personal profile] epiprocta 2023-05-17 03:33 am (UTC)(link)
[ He hates that that patient, soothing tone of voice does make him waver for a moment. And with the power of Communion ramped up so high, the boundaries between their minds rendered so thin, maybe Archangel can feel it too -- the way Gen's usual prickly attitude relents for a split second, foolishly yearning for the peace that those gentle words seem to offer him.

But only for a moment. ]


-- since when've you acted so friendly with me? [ Of course he has no memories of what had transpired during the masquerade; even if his memories hadn't been rendered foggy by booze, he'd never gotten to see Archangel unmasked there. ] But sure. If you're gonna cooperate, then that makes it easier for me.

[ His balance is a little wobbly when he crowds forth a half-step to firmly park himself in the other's personal space. ]

Pull out your shard. [ 'You're going to give me what I want.' ]
gravings: (070b)

[personal profile] gravings 2023-05-17 03:51 am (UTC)(link)
[ To Liem's last statement, he gets a concurring silence. The temperaments of their fellow Shard-Bearers worry her sometimes... ]

In the end, it might be a question of how many of us are willing to fight and risk ourselves to give Mr. Tibbs a chance.

[ Faced with a sea of pissed off Shard-Bearers, how many of them will see that as worth it? ]
epiprocta: (53)

[personal profile] epiprocta 2023-05-17 04:01 am (UTC)(link)
[ He feels skin against his back, hands against his chest, breaths against the back of his neck -- and for a moment his blood runs ice-cold through his veins, his pulse only thundering louder against his ribcage. With the border between their minds rendered so thin by the overdrive of Communion, Set must be able to feel the way Gen's thoughts are dragged into a deep quagmire at first. (Brief flashes of images and feelings. A dark closet. A suffocating heat. A warm body pressed against a small back. The sounds of violence and a child sobbing in terror. An overwhelming surge of self-disgust and rage.)

He'd been frozen in a seeming daze, and it's only after a long moment passes that Gen notices the differences -- hands wound under his arms instead of over, skin rendered cold by illness instead of swelteringly hot, a voice too deep to belong to her. It's just enough to help drag him back to reality. ]


... you. [ Right. This guy. Because they're here, in this wretched place right now. Not back in that horrible, dark, suffocating closet, no matter the similarities. No matter how much his thoughts keep being driven back to those awful moments. Gen swallows thickly before managing to find proper words. ] What're you getting all handsy for. Just 'cause I gave you my time before.

[ So he says. But there's an almost comical disconnect between his words and his actions, because his own grip remains brutally tight against Set's wrist. He'd tensed at first at the feel of breaths against his back, but that tension slowly drains; with his next ragged exhale, Gen even allows himself to sink into it, wearily coming to lean back against Set's body. ]

Just -- stay like that.

[ 'Don't leave,' he reiterates without words, tugging Set's wrist just a little closer. ]
sharethememory: ([screenshot] 015)

Zhongli ❖ Advocate ❖ Zenith

[personal profile] sharethememory 2023-05-17 04:04 am (UTC)(link)
[ ❖ Closed starters ❖

Didn't put up a plotting post up but if there is something in particular you would like to play with Zhongli, feel free to wildcard or ping me and I'll happily write up a starter for you. ♥
]
sharethememory: ([screenshot] 107)

Link ❖ The Ritual (Day 2 - 4)

[personal profile] sharethememory 2023-05-17 04:40 am (UTC)(link)
[ It had just been a handful of days since the Shard-Bearers had woken up to this barren, desolate wasteland. Baked and dry, the earth a dead thing under his feet, Zhongli takes many long moments to simply stare at his surroundings, his mind having difficulty adjusting to such a scene. He caught glimpses of some of the others heading in the direction of fallen Springstar and Highstorm, watched from a distance as they picked through the abandoned city. Adaptable, wise and resourceful - their judgement seemed like a sound one. And yet Zhongli did not join them, choosing instead to drift through both islands like a wraith glancing up at the sky whenever he can bear the choking heat to mourn the loss of the sea of stars. Had they really been so thoroughly abandoned?

Two days bleed into the third. Then the Oracle calls, siren sweet and alluring. The missing piece from the Scorching Isles. (Or was it the Oracle? The voice takes on a familiar tone, one Zhongli had not hear in millennia but would stay with him until he took his final breath. "This is the mark of our pledge, and it is also my challenge to you.")

Zhongli shakes his head to chase away the voice and chances one glance back up at the fateless sky before turning back toward to head to where it all began - the Tree of Life, Kenos's greatest boon and mystery all wrapped into one. Yes, it was time to return. Surely, with the Oracle so close they could finally do something.

On his way, he catches the glimpse of a familiar figure, an elf that he remembers sharing words with shortly after Manon's arrival. Curious and polite - that had been Zhongli's first impression. Of even temper, too, though that perhaps needed more data points to confirm.

Letting his feet more than his mind guide him, Zhongli takes a small detour, stepping closer to see how the other is faring. He almost asks if Link hears the Oracle (it must be the Oracle, right?), but decides against it at the last moment in case he was the only one affected.

He raises a hand in greeting, the movement more brittle and stiff than it should be even considering his time in the sun. How unfortunate. It seems that perhaps their trials had only just begun.
]

Greetings, Link. I must admit when I considered what our first face-to-face meeting would be, I could not envisioned anything like this.
Edited (Mixed up some status effects) 2023-05-17 04:48 (UTC)
warmare: (pic#16264549)

[personal profile] warmare 2023-05-17 04:44 am (UTC)(link)
[She wants to scream at him. She could scream at him. She could berate him further by insisting he be grateful for how long she had held her tongue trying to respect his ridiculous scheme until she’d been unable to bear it any longer, she could furiously demand he retract the insult of implying she might break, when she has been hard and cold for years and years without-

Without breaking.

But something breaks then, something small and pathetic that she never wanted to acknowledge, like a rock frozen so cold that the cracks inside of it suddenly split it from within.

She hasn’t left. She hasn’t tried to find a spell or rite to cast him from her head since the dryad had bound them together, even though she had excised Sebastian like a surgeon with a knife, removing every single trace of that demon’s influence.

And that split in the rocks that were her hearts grows, expanding in painful splinters as she stares at him over the border of snow and sand, her tail whipping in the wind. Her fingers curl into impotent, useless fists. Her face is flush with anger and shame both, with the memories of violence and the memories of… of something else, of rousing, pleasing touch. She had her “how”, but-]


Why?

[Why couldn’t they quit one another? And more importantly… why did she care? Even as she condemned him, truly hated who he chose to court, why-]
Edited 2023-05-17 06:22 (UTC)
baltimores: (085)

[personal profile] baltimores 2023-05-17 04:54 am (UTC)(link)
[ There's a steadily growing rage amid Amos' presence as Set goes on, as their emotions in communion bleed together. Just meet him at the bike racks at 3 o'clock, motherfucker, we'll see who's gonna do what then—

But that last barb. After Amos has spent days stewing in the feeling of Meridian, of daydreaming of his people from back home, wanting nothing more than for them to be with him, for him to be back with them, dunked underwater over and over amid feelings he cannot comprehend but has had no choice but to feel—

There's a blip, like Amos has cut the connection; in actuality he was momentarily rendered too angry to function, too furious to maintain their link. When he comes back online a moment later it's with a boiling rush of rage — one that immediately clears out into ice, hot anger replaced with cold. His voice is clear, every word articulated perfectly amid a bright and eager tone. ]


Where are you? I'll come find you.

[ Say that shit to his face, asshole. See where it gets you. ]
baltimores: (007)

[personal profile] baltimores 2023-05-17 05:04 am (UTC)(link)
[ Caren's serenity brings him immediate pause, a stutter-stop-start to his communion presence as he registers her. He knows Set sucks, but Caren doesn't, so he's got to hear her out...

And finds himself confused for it, because what she's suggesting doesn't line up with how he knows the world to work at all. ]


I don't think it matters. How he feels, if he suffers, if he's sorry; it won't change anything. It's better to just end things.

[ He's pretty confident in his sentiment, but at least he's willing to hear her out in case he's missed something. ]