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
erbe: (217)

[personal profile] erbe 2023-05-20 05:23 pm (UTC)(link)
[Rin has no protest for the assessment of Sothis. She seems to be right, after all. Humans do suck. Mages are particularly nasty about it, too. Yet Rin is surprised to hear such a "positive" review about herself. Even after sauntering over to poke the bear it seems she's fallen under wing instead of in the belly of the beast. A favorable, but unexpected outcome.]

Hopefully for the both of us I won't be needing such an offer, but I don't turn you away if I do.
fishfearme: (hmm)

[personal profile] fishfearme 2023-05-20 05:33 pm (UTC)(link)
Hm, you better not. I do not offer my protection idly, little one.

[There was a pause, one where Sothis pinned Rin beneath a stare so intent, it was as if her gaze alone was trying to cleave her to the very bone. Even her thoughts were murky, opaque and difficult to define.]

And... it is a protection that you may be calling on sooner than you think. These mortals and creatures alike stink of desperation and cold calculation. In this ritual that demands competition, it is only logical that some will bring it to its natural conclusion and slaughter their opponents. You, who is mortal, must tread carefully in this situation.

[With that helpful (?) warning (??) delivered, Sothis turned away, her arms crossed and expression closed off.]

Now, leave me. I need to think on things, and I wish to do it in peace. Or, as much peace as I can achieve with all these mentally unbalanced buffoons flailing around the place.
sterngaze: (Default)

[personal profile] sterngaze 2023-05-20 06:06 pm (UTC)(link)
No — that's not why.

[Now that he's harmonized completely, the visions have finally stopped. Liem is no longer plagued by the waves of grief and despair that have been washing over him for days; he is no longer burdened by the visions of people he'd killed, harmed, sent into slavery or imprisonment for the sake of keeping Taldor's bloated and struggling civil systems functioning. In the wake of that turmoil is only a quiet certainty — that a better world can be made from the ashes of the old, free of the entropy that had shackled Golarion into chaos. If only he can bring himself to let it go.

And that single, clear belief has undone the tidy stitches that have been the only thing keeping him together.
]

I was wrong when I told myself that choosing Meridian was the truest thing I could do for Abadar. When I thought devotion meant I should do everything I can to restore his domain—

I was wrong. If he could be one of the ones to shape Creation, surely that would be… No service I could ever do for him could compare.

[He falters as he speaks, forcing the words out haltingly, as though fighting against an unwillingness to bare something ugly and vulnerable: that he has never been strong at all, only selfishly obsessed with returning to what he knew before. Because even if he could present his god with an entire multiverse for him to shape into a Utopia, one where peace and prosperity reigned…

There is a reason why he feels despair at this revelation, and not elation.
]

So even if that could never be home… Even though I could never belong there…

[Just speaking it seems to drain from him what little conviction he still had; he crumples in on himself, the eyes that meet Hayame's going dull.]

How could I fight to go back, as a failure and a coward, unable to move forward?
baltimores: (059)

2 caren...

[personal profile] baltimores 2023-05-20 07:14 pm (UTC)(link)
[ He lifts his head up at her voice, turning it to look at her. His eyes are dull and tired, lips slightly parted as though on the verge of starting an answer — but for a long moment, nothing comes.

Instead, his gaze roves over her as though there'll be something in her physical form. She does, indeed, have a bigger presence than him — much bigger, because where he carries himself physically, there is always a part of him that remains small and uncertain. A child who needs his mother's guidance all throughout life, and there's none of that to be had here — not even as she carries that air about her, as she seems better suited for this than he could ever be. He's left to curl around the shell of himself as though that will protect him from the foreign sentiments worming their ways in (it won't), too hurt by the desperation of what must still be out there, beyond his grasp but out there, to do much more.

Just try to keep himself alive, but for once, he wants more.

He meets her eyes again when he's finally able to speak. ]


I don't know. [ It could be a copout of an answer; it's true, delivered with a plain sincerity that would make it odd to question. ] I've never... I don't know what's going on. Why I'm feeling this way. I know everything's gone, but I can't shake this feeling that it's not. And it...

[ It hurts, it hurts so badly via a pain he's never felt before, did not know existed, and it brings forth a pathetic, childlike answer with no obvious means of fulfilment, no way to make this shit stop. ]

I just want to go home.
sterngaze: (neutral: pensive)

[personal profile] sterngaze 2023-05-20 07:35 pm (UTC)(link)
[Despite all the ways in which he and Misa differ — despite coming from different worlds and fighting for different futures — Liem has never found her difficult to understand. At her core, he thinks, she is just like any other young person: trying to find her way in a world that can often be hostile and unfair. He recalls how she'd talked about her dreams for a just and peaceful world, when they'd both still been on Horos.

In a way, they both want the same thing. They've just taken different roads to get there.
]

I have been, some.

[He admits this simply, the same way one might admit to being thirsty after being out in the sun. He's been doing his best to manage the visions productively, to put them in perspective and not let them gain a foothold. Though the waves of emotion that come along with them have been making that difficult.]

They're distracting, and I don't think we can ignore them entirely. Eventually, they'll likely need to be addressed, one way or the other.

Has it, for you? Been making you feel crazy?
vapour: (pic#15074388)

[personal profile] vapour 2023-05-20 07:51 pm (UTC)(link)
[ (Yes, we need more allies. Convert him to the cause where no one will be the wiser.)

When's the last time his head hurt this badly? The influence from the Meridian is making it hurt even more, although he isn't quite able to identify that this is all to do with the Meridian despite being harmonized to it. Zhongli is right, too, the noise from everyone and evening else only makes it harder to decipher his own thoughts from others and theirs and when the voice is speaking to him or not (but he's pretty sure it's always speaking to him.)
]

Okay... yeah. [ the Meridian may be pushy about him helping with its victory, but it would have been much smarter if it didn't make him so weak and ill if it wanted results that fast; Childe feels tunnel enough to simply ignore the pressuring presence in his mind. ]

...I probably just caught something down here. [ admittedly he isn't sure how a virus would survive to infect him in a world that seems absolutely devoid of hosts, but there's not much else he can think of to explain his symptoms. ]
sterngaze: (neutral: dry)

[personal profile] sterngaze 2023-05-20 08:28 pm (UTC)(link)
[Caught up as Liem is in his own misery and panic, it is a moment before the oppressive, overtly calm presence of the man in front of him can penetrate the fog blanketing his mind. He blinks up at John, and his brows furrow as a trickle of wariness seeps through the black and senseless whirl that his feelings have become.

He does not know this person — not personally. They have never spoken a word to each other before. What brings him here now?
]

The choice is important.

[Vital, even. Why else would he be in such agony over it? And despite that agony, and the conflict of grief and duty threatening to rip him in two, he spares some more attention for John the necromancer, with his strange eyes and his strange soul.]

And it is mine to make.

[He was getting there, all right? The knife was just part of the process. It's not like John is in any position to throw stones, anyway; Liem saw him get up to his fun with Voryn and Quetzalcoatl earlier, in the main cavern.]
epiprocta: (84)

[personal profile] epiprocta 2023-05-20 08:30 pm (UTC)(link)
( This works perfectly, thank!!! )

[ If Caren puts up no resistance, then that's all the more reason for Gen not to let go. Her meager protest goes basically ignored; it's only the gentle brush of chilled palms over his skin that earns a breathless huff as his grip claws harder against her clothes. ]

Just shut up and sit your ass down.

[ In truth, there's not much comforting about the tactile sensations she presents. She's too delicately-built and cold to provide him any distraction through lurid indulgence, and the lack of any real resistance means he can't even pretend he's effectively venting his distress through anger, as he always does. But still, she's something that his mind can fixate on, the simple physical feedback of her presence better grounding him in reality.

He huffs another hard exhale before tugging at her again, urging her to settle down like he demands. But at least this time he accompanies that gesture with more than just a shitty, rude command. ]


... you're acting all calm, but you're not feeling normal right now, are you? I can feel it, y'know. The way you're all jittery inside. [ That flutter of her pulse is slightly askew from the more twisting, gut-wrenching pace of his own anxiety, but it's still close enough that he can recognize it for what it is. ] So stay.
sterngaze: (neutral: dubious)

[personal profile] sterngaze 2023-05-20 11:08 pm (UTC)(link)
[The mortifying battle of being known, Set calls it. And it is mortifying, to Liem. It has been many years since he considered himself to be worth knowing, as someone who possessed hidden depths that someone might be pleased to uncover. Set's relentless advance, which threatens to plunge past the shallows of his being to plunder all the parts of him that he keeps hidden, makes fear snake tight around his neck.

Not because he fears that Set will break his vow, but because he fears that he will hold fast to it. Because he still doesn't know what spurs the god's demand; he does not know how to trust in his motives. And he cannot fathom an ending to this scenario in which he isn't hurt and used up, eventually.

And yet.
]

No, god no, don't kneel.

[And yet, despite his fear and his distrust, he is so, terribly,

lonely,

and Set's hands are so warm. He very carefully does not move his head, except to accommodate the tilting of Set's hands. He does not move his mouth against the sliding thumb. And he so very, very carefully — slips his hands down the god's arms from his wrists, cool palms finding hot, sun-reddened skin.
]

I— I submit. I will lean on you, since you wish it.

[He still cannot grasp why — has not been able to understand, ever since the man first appeared unexpectedly to hammer on his door.]

And you may call on me, at need.

[Not that he thinks Set needed his permission.]
redsoil: — PLEASE CREDIT! (Default)

[personal profile] redsoil 2023-05-20 11:55 pm (UTC)(link)
[ mary that series of words gave me psychic damage and i'm begging for more ]

I can see use in both paths, [ he admits to it, to his ability to see a way forward whether he chooses Meridian or Zenith.

Perhaps that is his weakness, that he will never fall to one side or the other without external pressure to beat him down, to lure him astray. He doubts, far more than he hopes. Hopes do not dwell within him, but Meridian remains the most practical and true path for him to walk, to return to his son and adhere to the promise between them: Atone, return home, start from the beginning. He cannot atone, cannot return the souls he carries with him to the land of their birth and demise — to Duat proper, without there being a world.

He doubts he can Create, as Osiris or Ra has. Fashioning a new world sounds well-within the powers of a god ( and not Zenith, they will fail; they are imperfect, and will corrupt their perfect world long before it ever exists ), but he is a god of chaos, disorder, war. Not a creator, not a beacon of light or life. Yet, Meridian swells within him because it suggests it can give him that — he grows flowers, plants. He speaks to verdant life. He must carry the others with him, for his parameters to swell and accompany all things. ]


I see the reality of Meridian, yet I yearn for my truth in Zenith. I fight a war with myself every day. I am sure you do, too. So. What is your own brother like, to be what calls you home?

[ HIS brother sucks and makes him want to run to zenith to tactically nuke him from existence ]
redsoil: (pic#16220625)

[personal profile] redsoil 2023-05-21 12:08 am (UTC)(link)
[ Never, could he willingly destroy a path he can see use in. Zenith may not be his bastion, nor where he places his fragile will, but he cannot turn away from the message contained within — nor Lady Yima, who waits for him. Whom he is infinitely curious about, as a mother who either lost or turned away from hope. Who was she? How did she come to be here, to travel through the tree and forever mourn her children?

Silco asks him, if he would have promised such a thing. He answers the question, correctly. They chose to spare one another, nearly frozen and lost to the Blight. One of them could have taken the other, burning their curse upon their body and freeing themselves — and even backed into a corner, hackles bared and defenses sharp, maddeningly so — they had shed blood, instead. Their souls sang, discordant and wild, together. Even now, he can feel Silco more acutely than any other. Save for Jonathan Sims, whom he knows to avoid.

After all, the Archivist's brand glows upon his brow. Evidence, that he had killed him. ( Truly, it had just been to even the scales between them. Akin to how Sebastian had thought his death would even the balance between himself and Hayame. ) ]


I do not think you, or Zaun, should have to be redeemed to have the right to exist.

[ The words sound warm, as though he says them as a comfort, but the truth is there between the two of them: We are not valueless, nor any less worthy of victory, because we are wicked. It is a similar sentiment he shares with Akua, because Kenos is not a world that cherry-picked its stock of Shard-bearers from heroes. In fact, most of them seem to be awful villains of varying degree. ]

I am fine with you as you are. When finally we must clash in the name of these ideologies, I will meet you without reserve — but, not now. We need not fight here. We need only survive this challenge, and prepare for the next.
redsoil: (pic#16410367)

[personal profile] redsoil 2023-05-21 12:22 am (UTC)(link)
[ While he knows the Zenite pair he makes companions of will inevitably use what they find, so, too, will he. Be it to negotiate, to attain higher power and glory, or as a lure — knowledge, to him, is an under-appreciated currency in Kenos. The factions operate on promise, and the conferral of power when their Shard-bearers demonstrate loyalty. Set, god of disorder and confusion, yearns to undermine those who are blindly loyal, and set them up for failure within their own faction. He cannot do that, without power of his own. Without knowledge to use, abuse and manipulate. ]

Oh, tempt me with a good time.

[ Says one of the brutes of the trio, a little sulkily. ]

Honestly, I wanted to see you do it, Silco. Just the once, [ wheedle, faux-whine! ] Do not be complacent, Sebastian and I are more than capable of breaking down the other barricades. Have you not wished to break and enter the way you would in your youth?

[ It is the door of the spire, the highest tower that calls him. For what reason? Set touches a hand to the locked door, and smiles over his own shoulder; the parasol tips, in a way that could only be sarcastically coquettish. ]

I want to know where they draw their power from. It is said that the creation of goods is tied to the magic of Kenos itself, so why not? I would like to get my hands on it, naturally. You two can assist me, to that end. Does that satisfy you, Sebastian — it is restricted, and I want to know why. I want more.

[ Power. Authority. Control. ]
cutlery: (yelling into his vape pen)

[personal profile] cutlery 2023-05-21 12:30 am (UTC)(link)
[ The air is forced from his unnecessary lungs as he’s thrown down, and those shadows that spill into Communion respond. They shiver, the mouths grin, and the human form that’s on display matches the grins. It’s not as fearsome as it could be, because surely if he could tap into his natural abilities, his eyes would be blood red, and his mouth would be filled with teeth just as fearsome as Hayame’s. He could weigh the value of bringing those shadows out, truly, and he could see the sort of mistake she’s made—

But not here, not now.

Blood and humors drip down his face as his hands dig into the roots. It’s partially for the still hot pain of the mess left of his eye, but something feral, but precise as well. He could strike back, and even slowed and disgustingly human, he could do damage. But even in his feral rage, he didn’t forget his deals. It’s too important of a thing for a demon to ever forget.

His gaze dares her, eggs her on, because every blow will be one that he returns. Not through violence, necessarily, but she will pay for this humiliation in one way or another. There’s not even a thought that she could truly end his existence now. For a creature as vicious and proud as him, the thought that he could die was impossible.

And, indeed, someone intervenes. He’s simply surprised that it’s Akua, of all people. He would have expected Silco, not wanting to lose his precious weapon, or perhaps Set, not wanting to truly lose a fun playmate. He laughs, vicious and barking, but says no more. His words would come out too biting, too bitter. He knows better. He loathes it too. ]
baltimores: (070)

[personal profile] baltimores 2023-05-21 12:33 am (UTC)(link)
[ He's silent, thinking over her question, because that... might be it. An explanation for his misery, a means to understand something incomprehensible — by putting it in plain language. Amos doesn't notice the openness she offers him, the way she allows them to be intimately connected, because trying to parse through other people's emotions on top of things he's never felt before or understood is too big an ask.

His hand digs further into the ground, clenching the dirt within its grasp; a subconscious movement as he tries to work through this. Physically doing something to get his mind going again, maybe, even as he continues to be assaulted by this... ]


I've never felt that before. [ Not a yes; also not a no, though she might be able to pick up that he's leaning towards yes. Or at least a solid maybe. But... ] I had people back where I was from, and I wanted to be with them then, but that was then. They're dead now. Been dead for over a year, far as I know.

[ Because it's been over a year since his world ended, since he started world hopping. He never questioned it that the universe he came from was dead. Things die, and you move on, and that's it.

And now, for the first time in his life he's questioning it, and he doesn't like it. Something uncomfortable twists within him, a lurch in his conviction. Amos frowns at the sensation, searching Quetzalcoatl's eyes in hopes she can tell him the answer. ]


Why would I miss them? They're gone. There isn't anything left to miss.
redsoil: (pic#16220767)

[personal profile] redsoil 2023-05-21 01:03 am (UTC)(link)
[ Set comes to Childe delirious with Meridian's light, but driven by the desire to finally set himself upon this young man whom he imagines has ached for the same thing: a fight. A true fight, unyielding and impassioned. Nothing short of their best, nothing short of the call-and-response of threat and survival. Though he comes to Childe battered, his hair ragged and bruises blossoming upon his person, he pushes pain aside in favor of giving his all to the Harbinger youth. There is nothing like throwing himself into a brawl while presumably 'impaired'.

Which is why he twists, as Childe steps clear of the kick he aims, to better soak the other man's kick with the curled dip of tucked elbow. The pain lanced up his arm, settling in his shoulder and the far tips of his little finger, but he perseveres. Were this a fight with a point system, Childe would take the first. Instead, it appears to have become a fight with grievous bodily injury suddenly on the table, as Childe comes right out with a blade.

Though he does not have his divine powers, he won't yield. Not even when he spots the blade and immediately begins to calculate how to handle it. The other comes for him, and this time, Set invites him in; allowing Childe's momentum to rush upon him, as he skims the flat of his forearm forcefully along his wrist to seize hold of it and keep the knife away from his own body. ]


You are so resourceful. I like it.

[ Praise. Because Childe is smart, to ready a weapon, especially against a god who prides himself on being a weapon. Set pushes Childe's knife-bearing arm down, aiming to control his wrist so he cannot find purchase with it, and pops him in the nose with a quick jab. ( With it, arrives the sudden sunburst warmth of Meridian-bright savagery. Hope? As if. Meridian's light is wicked, is sharp, it is harsh and made for those who want to survive. ) ]
Edited 2023-05-22 17:11 (UTC)
sterngaze: (neutral: tousled)

[personal profile] sterngaze 2023-05-21 01:07 am (UTC)(link)
[Even knowing that a being in this situation has every reason to rely on bravado, Liem feels himself hesitate at the sound of the warning uttered from Byleth's mouth. He is not concerned about backlash due to treachery — after all, his intentions are exactly as stated. However, it is impossible not to be at least a little concerned by the slightly ominous description of the being that keeps referring to Byleth as its "vessel."]

Who are you? [he asks with a small frown. Despite the reassurance that he has nothing to fear, he mislikes the idea of some strange, powerful being tampering with his soul.] Mister Eisner has never mentioned such a being in my hearing.
redsoil: (pic#16220826)

[personal profile] redsoil 2023-05-21 01:34 am (UTC)(link)
[ — seized in that same desperate, clutching grasp, he twists his wrist. Not to get away, but to jam his palm more firmly across Gen's and sink his own nails into the side of the young man's hand. A few are split, gone ragged from clawing at roots, battering doors; some are missing, from tearing at his own hair so as to free himself from another's hold. He digs into Gen in equal measures, and balances the weight of Meridian's warmth, and Zenith's chill, between them. An answer, silent and potent.

Set finds meaning in them both, without reservation. Just as his mind parts and reveals the calm, the factual sense of he who finds nothing wrongful with the parts that Gen has shown him, not his wrath, nor his attitude. There is a faint fondness for him, and a consideration that accompanies his acceptance — and then, he folds back the soft, gauzy linen of his mind and reveals unto the seeking teen.

( — which one of you loves their child more, Set asks of two women, their cheeks gaunt and brown skin gone sallow. Their hands shake, fearful and half-starved, as they look up, up high to the god who regards them with little more than contempt, even as he challenges their life. Because only the victor will remain a mother. He watches them, their dark eyes flicking from his countenance to the other woman. They circle one another, fearful and crying: Sister, please. One pleads. The other lunges for the sword between them, and runs her through.

Another woman. Gasping through a broken jaw, as she claws at a god's chest and garbles words in a language that Gen may not understand, but the meaning is clear: Monster. Murderer. Set leans over her, and the swimming, loose thought within the hollowness of his mind is — about how much her hateful, defiant eyes look like those of his sister's. He wraps his hands around her throat, and holds her down until she twitches no more. )

( In another moment, miasma pours from the dark bracelet he 'wears' upon his wrist. It sings in screams and agony, and wraps around his mind and throat, as he dies in the same way those women had — as he suffers, writhing, under his own hands and knows the pain he caused them. )

( Ma'at stands before him, and releases the end of the scroll in her hands. The weight of the words upon it fall to the ground and carry on, further, further, further. Set, you stand before the Ennead — murderer of those you were sworn to protect, tyrant of Egypt. Your crimes are too numerous to voice, your sovereignty taken falsely from the brother you slew —

I am guilty, he tells her, without hesitation. In the crowd of whispering gods, stands his weeping wife. A child's tired, shrill cry echoes through the halls. Sentence me, so that I may see with my own eyes, hear with my own ears, and feel with my whole heart — the agony I caused. ) ]


— I need to take them home, [ he tells Gen, as he turns his wrist over to show him that same dark 'bracelet', looped around his wrist. It is dormant now, unharmonized and depowered as he is. ] I promised someone I would pay for the things I did, and they promised they would wait for me. However long it took. I owe them, for what I did to them. They're still here with me, all those I slaughtered. I killed them because, [ he falters, then.

Does it matter why he killed them? Will Gen even want to hear that a god seeks to atone? That a god killed thousands, undeserving ( and one, deserving, the spark of agonized wrath screams: Osiris, you deserved it. For trying to take him, for hurting him! ) and wants to bring them home? ]


Because I was weak. And scared.
Edited 2023-05-21 01:36 (UTC)
vallt: (73)

[personal profile] vallt 2023-05-21 01:40 am (UTC)(link)
[with the way set describes the weapon, she can imagine it so easily. there's a light smile that plays on her face as she does so, as she adds the faces she could punch with it to her mental picture. through the chaos, it's a calm current they can share. at least until —

is this what you wish for?

no, jyn wants to say in the immediate. she doesn't wish for any of this rancor shit; not meridian, not zenith, not anything that puts some stupid fucking cause over people's lives. even if the names change, it's all the same — and she's tired, well beyond the sleeplessness of these hours that blend together.

but she knows the only choice to be made here. she and cassian have considered the options, together. talked it over. agreed.

the only choice — just like scarif.

(it'd felt almost calm, then, the directed purpose that had filled her as they'd descended through the shield gate over the atmosphere; it feels calm now, the hint, the trace over her.

and so she lets it sink in.)

in his grip, her fingers relax. her eyes meet his, unblinking.]


Yes. [her voice has no hesitance, no waver.] I'll take it.
redsoil: (pic#16459224)

[personal profile] redsoil 2023-05-21 01:51 am (UTC)(link)
— weren't you trusted, long before her?

[ Amos's bloodied hand is sticky upon his arm, and he digs his knees into the man's ribs like someone seeking to stay on a wild, bucking animal that will trample him if he is thrown off. He wrenches himself free of Amos's slick hand, and bashes him across the face once, twice with his fist. ]

Did someone not look to you and hope you would protect them? Fight for them, against even your own sensibility? Your own doubt in what you think you know as 'reality'?

[ Zenith will probably always hold Amos. He will have to be the first to go, because his gravity is intense and will hold true to the figure he has fastened himself to. It is not Amos's belief that anyone will be able to shake, but it will have to be people's faith in him that will need to be exploited, Set knows. Not everyone can keep up with resolve like his. Not everyone is as willing to give it all away.

When he cocks his fist again, he pushes at that slick hand to wrest free of Amos's hold, to try and pin him down and really,

just look at him. He hates this human, so much. Set, who wars with his own heart, who is perpetually trapped within his own divine parameters — hates him, because this man will poison Zenith's idea of a perfect world. He is the reason Set fully believes that their world is an impossible dream. Yima may have the power to make it, but it will be no better than the world any of them came from. So why? Why not just go back? ]


Was there really no one like that, Amos, that you could only find it in her?

[ He does not speak unkindly of the Lady. If anything, he holds a distinct respect for her. A fatal understanding. ]
cryomance: (065.)

Rosaria ✝ Zenith ✝ Harbinger

[personal profile] cryomance 2023-05-21 01:54 am (UTC)(link)
[ Closed starters go here. For any extra plotting, questions, or your very own custom starter, please feel free to poke me at dreadwyrm#0962 before discord makes us all change our usernames and causes mass confusion. ]
cryomance: (153.)

Caren ❄ Some ritualistic nunsense

[personal profile] cryomance 2023-05-21 02:03 am (UTC)(link)
[ As much as Rosaria didn't want to involve herself any further in rituals after she'd been healed herself (basically returned to her regularly scheduled Zenith-shenanigans), if there's one thing she can't stand, is having others be taken advantage of while they're at their most vulnerable and unguarded. And also having to put in extra hours and exercise some altruism on their behalf instead of retiring in a bar to drink for the evening as she originally planned.

Technically, two things she can't stand.

Anyway, if not for catching wind that some Meridians were on a rabid hunt to convert anyone they could find, she would be halfway through a pint of ale right now and if the world hadn't transformed to an unfortunate hellscape on the behalf of a shitty tree that just doesn't know when to quit, but she's not going to turn a blind eye while her comrades are having their free will reduced to nothing. Her current target is no one she knows that intimately but someone she recognizes from having seen her around Highstorm a few times. She also appears as addled as Rosaria had been prior to cleansing herself as fast as possible, so perhaps there is some hope to help the stranger reclaim herself.

After a few more minutes of observing the stranger wrestling her way across an overgrowth of roots, Rosaria eventually parks herself on the most stable surface she can find, crouching down so the young woman can hear her. ]


Where do you plan on wandering off to in that state?
Edited 2023-05-28 00:49 (UTC)
cryomance: (168.)

Vash ❄ Exchanging faction splooge

[personal profile] cryomance 2023-05-21 02:13 am (UTC)(link)
[ To continue to make her existence in this world all the less pleasant, one single trade did not completely expunge the hymnal music and the temptation to listen to Cyrus' nonsense and to take it in as gospel. While Rosaria has regained enough of her senses to make her fully aware of her compromised state, she would be utterly grateful if the voices and the singing would stop completely.

If she could just simply go back to the semi-peaceful state of mind she'd been before this whole ordeal...

Sadly, relief doesn't come for free, so she's been scouring the area for anyone she recalls having seen during her earlier forays into Springstar. She's not picky about who at this point, evident by the fact that she actual perks up when she spots a tall, plucky blond that she knows she's seen skulking about in some of the usual Meridian haunts.

Rather than bothering with any pleasantries, she picks up her pace until she's close enough to snag his arm to get his attention. ]


You. I need you.

[ Her sensibilities must be shot if she's saying as much out loud, but she doesn't want to waste any further time getting to the point. ]
muchalucha: coloring by <user name=blorbos> (pic#16463157)

[personal profile] muchalucha 2023-05-21 02:19 am (UTC)(link)
[ Quetzalcoatl watches as he works through this in a physical way, and her emotions shift openly with it. She sees him clutch at the dirt below, and she feels the urge to reach out and take that hand herself. He gives his answer, and she feels a gentle sympathy for it. Maybe that’s what it took to move on from the story that Zenith told. She couldn’t judge that in the slightest.

Still, though. She remembers the words of the other Meri, how they had warned about Amos, how he felt about things. About Zenith, about the Meri. Her own manicured fingers tap against the ground uncertainly, but…

She leans forward and reaches out. She places her hand over the one that Amos has been digging into the ground. It’s not quite gripping it fully, but it’s contact that just gently says that he’s not alone. ]


That’s not true, is it? They’re people that you cared for, so you have your memories. You’ll always have those, but you’re probably still longing for more. At least so long as you have Meridian with you, I’d guess.
cryomance: (133.)

[personal profile] cryomance 2023-05-21 02:25 am (UTC)(link)
[ She's envious no one else can hear it. If Rosaria had enough of a spiteful streak, she'd broadcast it out loud through as many communion links as she could reach. The other sisters were so sure their beloved anemo lord would save them in their time of need, and perhaps he did... perhaps, he protected their planet, and they are all simply awaiting her eventual return.

Her head shakes furiously as though she could somehow snap herself out of those thoughts, but they only resound louder in her head. ]


A pesky interference. Do you hear noting at all?

[ She's envious of Hayame if that is true. She's almost close to begging to be rid of this affliction, but there's enough pride left in her not to get on her knees, and she's clinging to the knowledge that optimism and hope are not who she is. She's pragmatic. She's seen the worst of humanity. She won't succumb. ]

Not even the voices of the dead? Or of Yima?
diversionist: (r1 » this is a work event.)

[personal profile] diversionist 2023-05-21 02:27 am (UTC)(link)
[ in another world, in another time, this conversation goes very differently. quetzalcoatl expresses this wish — this kind, heartfelt wish — and cassian andor accepts it with both hands. he'd be lying, of course. but in another version of events, he smiles at her, and he squeezes her hands back, and he promises to try. or maybe he does better. maybe he promises her he will; maybe he promises her that he'll do his best to seek out happiness, and maybe he even convinces himself he means it, and maybe they both leave this conversation feeling a little better about their situation in kenos. maybe, maybe, maybe. he would like to say something like this to her. he really would.

but in this world, in this time, she is holding his hands and sensitive to his feelings through the communion keeping them all open to one another. more than that: her blood is still drying and cracking against his shard, sap though it is, and his is doing the same on hers. so there are no barriers between his mind and hers right now. or only thin ones, beneath which lay only details that she has yet to know. details, but not his essence. not his motivations. not his reasons.

not

the regret (he thinks it's regret) that rises in his throat and seems to catch there, suffocating. not the way his eyebrows draw together, briefly, etching lines across his forehead, or the brief stutter to his breath. small things, but the two of them are in close proximity, and, remember, she can feel what he feels. it's not just regret. he is not meant for living happily, and he never has been, and he's even tried. his guilt is old and heavy and overwhelming; because he doesn't deserve happiness, even if he could. even though he does have a glimmer of a chance, here with jyn, but he doesn't deserve that, either. there's a debt that's owed to his galaxy, to everyone he ever outlived, abandoned, killed, hurt — the list so long he doesn't remember all the names, just the imprints some of them left behind. it's terrible that he hasn't yet paid for it. he'd finally thought he had — and then he'd woken in kenos.

it's terrible,

that he feels all that, sharp and unfiltered, before he takes the emotions with both hands and smothers them. smooths out his face, draws out a smile as he looks back at her, as his hands drop to his sides. ]


I can't do that either, [ is gentle and rueful, rather than doing her the disservice of lying about the reaction she surely felt. but he does grasp onto that change of subject with, ] What would that mean? Summoning the full you?