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
appeale: (the need to leave this empty bed)

cw abuse and misery

[personal profile] appeale 2023-05-31 03:43 am (UTC)(link)
[ what bleeds between Set's fingers from the wound he had tried in vain to cover is a vision that perhaps no one else could understand as well as Rudbeckia understands it. a brand of horror she is so intimately familiar with, a nightmare she has envisioned so often herself without needing anyone to feed it to her. their fear blurs together in this Communion space that neither of them can control. Osiris' hand reaches out towards Ruby; Cesare's hand runs through Set's hair. what lurks in their gaze is something she can't decipher, something Set knows that she can't perceive. Ruby is a paralysing influence on their shared vision, helpless and unable to resist, only knowing that if it ever came true, her world – such a small and insignificant thing, just her, beneath any shred of concern to Meridian or Zenith – would end.

she thought— she really thought she wouldn't cry. that it couldn't break through the thick blanket of ice that had settled her heart once she swallowed the serenity Jonathan Sims had offered her, or even the numbness of shock inflicted on her by their vision. but when Set hauls her up, fumbles to remove her shoes with a sudden and desperate protective urge that she cannot pretend not to see in him – a harsh sob wrenches itself from her throat.

if she didn't cry, though, she would scream. she would have to tell Set everything, needing him to know that they won't accept her, that they can't, and tearing herself to pieces in trying to communicate it. it isn't something she could ever actually put into words when it's simply an immutable fact of the universe that she knows, a culmination of every cold gaze and cruel hand that has ever laid upon her, every person that turned away from her pleas, every warm sentiment that ran dry. ]


I— I want to stay with you... [ in the end, this is the only way she can express her fear. ] I don't have anywhere else to go, please don't throw me away. I'll be good, I'll...

[ the things she cannot put into words, the inconsolable wail that is caught in her throat, finds the crack it can escape through: Communion does not need her to speak, or even understand her own feelings. Set does not receive memories laid out neatly in a film reel, but feels the aftermath of what Ruby's life has left her with. her certainty that she will not, cannot be loved is something rooted so deeply within her because it has been fed and nurtured by every person she has ever encountered. he feels the despair that struck her the moment her family's warmth evaporated, knowing that it was her fault; that she had disappointed them, that at the centre of her is something so terrible, anyone who sees it is changed.

her mother's harsh words, relentless, finding the flaws in her looks and her actions and her very existence. a rod striking her knuckles in a teacher's hand. the whip held high, Cesare's voice gone cold: Tell me what you did wrong. her father the Pope with a fistful of her hair in his hand when he had been smiling so kindly just a moment before.

the servants rolling their eyes when she speaks. whispers in the hallways. coughing up a glass of water, her throat burning from the grains of sand mixed into it. pinned to the wall by her husband's sister, shouting at her: Just go and die quietly! that red-eyed glare again, and the despair it struck in her heart. there is no end to it, and no reprieve.

maybe Zenith would accept her, maybe Yima would love her at first. but it is inevitable that it would change because it always, always, always does. ]
zauneyete: (smug)

[personal profile] zauneyete 2023-05-31 03:53 am (UTC)(link)
Oh? You do? Then you are a better person than the other individual I killed.

[ Quetz had, after all, decided to talk about him for all of the world to see via Communion, and Silco felt a little annoyed about that. After all, he had done it because she tried to stop him from attacking Springstar, and he had done That because they were at war. It was his right to do so, but she'd been clearly at least annoyed enough to talk about him.

Then again, Gray also felt... angry, in communion. He sensed it, although his own impression in communion was like still water, cold and placid.
]

I don't have it.

[ Right now. On him. ]

I can't imagine why you believe I took it. There must have been plenty of other individuals who walked by, and yet you default to me.

I suppose I'm not surprised. You and your ilk certainly like to think the worst of me.
appeale: (and my father had sold me)

[personal profile] appeale 2023-05-31 04:13 am (UTC)(link)
[ Jonathan Sims takes her hand, Rudbeckia draws a bracing breath of air, and—

happiness has never been something in the realm of possibility for her. as long as she survived, it didn't matter whether she spent the rest of eternity miserable and wretched. wishing for anything more than that – whether that be joy, or vengeance, or freedom – would be like a starving person holding out for a gourmet feast. it's a state of mind that makes it easier to swallow the aspect of Zenith that John pours into her, no matter how unpleasant, well-accustomed already to endurance, to forcing herself to drink poison. and once the first of the stillness settles over her, Rudbeckia accepts the corruption eagerly, seeming desperate for the serenity it offers.

she expects nothing from Zenith—not its leader, nor its followers, nor its power. but unlike Meridian, at least it can offer her the escape of apathy.

although none of her fears will never leave Ruby entirely, it does ease somewhat, now that the outcome she was so intensely afraid of has happened. her life has been ruined once more. she'll be a traitor to the Meridian, and spineless to the Zenith, so her reputation has no hope of recovery. all that's left to do is survive as long as she can, waiting for this life to end so that she can try again on the next one. ]


... Yeah. You're right. [ about peace, she means. now that it is part of her, the Zenith influence begins to mold itself to suit; the calm John has given her is already beginning to turn to ice, numbing her heart. her hand trembles faintly in his. ] Signore, I... don't really know anyone in Zenith. Is it alright if I stay with you?

[ if the lifelines she had made are useless now, she may as well start on the new ones already. ]
fireballer: (🔥 26)

[personal profile] fireballer 2023-05-31 04:32 am (UTC)(link)
[he doesn't think he's ever met a fellow stargazer, because wow, this is certainly a different sensation. damn, this world really loves airing out people's private thoughts to everyone else, huh? can't get a damn moment of privacy. but that's neither here nor there.

he's got a distressed woman in front of him right now who takes priority. now, diluc is not a trusting person, but it doesn't take trust to help someone out. or at least try to.]


It wouldn't be your fault right now even if you did. [hey, he's got some zenith energy swirling around his head too, and he's probably the furthest away from believing in what zenith represents.]

I wish I could help you with the Zenith influence, but I assure you there are some kind Zenites who would happily assist you. Did you have a bad experience with one of them...?

[like... silco or someone... cause okay, THAT guy can definitely turn someone off zenith forever.[
consolation: (2809166 (31))

[personal profile] consolation 2023-05-31 04:35 am (UTC)(link)
[She steps closer obediently when beckoned, one hand holding loosely to her elbow. Caren stands very still, presenting herself for the inspection she anticipates.]

Look at me. What about my appearance leads you to believe that I am incapable of fighting?

[At least there's still a bit of acid boiling under her tongue. Caren's frail frame is obviously not built for physical altercations, even if she wasn't visibly weakened by the effects of the sap transmutation. The remark was obviously a sarcastic one.]

There are many things I can hear down here. It seems it will never stop. Thoughts...feelings...doubts...regrets. All of them are flowing into me.

[The membrane that separates the walls of her personal Communion space and that of others is thin as rice paper and dissolving just as quickly. Any time she comes too close to another, the slippage deepens. Beside it all there is her own half-memory, half-illusion. It reminds her that she does not wish for anything Zenith can give her. She does not wish for anything at all.]
zauneyete: (violence)

[personal profile] zauneyete 2023-05-31 04:50 am (UTC)(link)
[ He both hears, and does not hear her words, because his heart kicks up so fast and hard that he can barely hear anything, his ears practically ringing from the rush of it as she tries to point out things that Silco most certainly does know, but does not speak to. There are only two people in all of Kenos who have been privy to the knowledge that Silco holds incredibly close -- as Set has not learned this yet -- and he knows Sebastian cannot and he has not even seen Kaeya around.

How did she know?

His eyes dance from her, to the side, as if he's looking back behind him. The shadow of his daughter looms over him, but every time he turns --

He does not see her. Like she's dancing just out of sight, and Silco hates to know that even someone else gets the honor of seeing someone important to them, even if its a mockery of their own goals. Like she's just out of reach, and Silco has so little he values, not like he values Jinx. Even Zaun, for all of his endless hard work and devotion, was nothing when stood next to his daughter, and it makes him angrier that not only does she point out that she exists -- even if she doesn't know who she is -- but that she has someone else that she can see.

'Maybe it's because you're turning your back on me' is what the small voice said behind him, even though his daughter was dying in his arms, and he had no choice. Singed? There was a chance -- it had been the last thought in his head, and he'd been planning to take her -- but that was a long shot, and instead he had a chance of something better, and unleashing his daughter on that "perfect" world, where she can thrive and destroy, and treat it like a playground, instead of... possibly dying.

It's not turning his back on her -- and the thought spurs him to surge forward, angry that Quetz even dared to bring her up, that she dared think about that thing he held so close. She wasn't even here now, he kept her locked away in his quarters, and her shard hadn't been there. But she's mocking him from behind, and this -- person, this supposed "god" that mocked him by talking about love and things being 'worthy' already made Silco angry -- incandescent. Nobody said things like that to him, there was no "worth of love" in Zaun. It was gain power, or die. Struggle, and seize what power one could get -- or one ended up drowned, choked out in the river, merely an afterthought to history.

Silco was angry that she tried to hint at something deeper than that, that she wanted him to know that she knew there was someone important there. She was mocking him with that knowledge, pretending like she cared, when all she wanted was to rub it in, that there was someone -- something to which he valued. Actually valued.

He wanted to tell her that it was nothing -- he'd technically seen nobody -- but instead, his motion forward carried through, and he reached out, his hands trembling, not to grab her, but his hands reach for her throat, as if he could silence her, by doing so.
]

You --

Know nothing --

[ He hissed, trying to shut her up. ]
lifespanned: (pic#15666236)

[personal profile] lifespanned 2023-05-31 06:43 am (UTC)(link)
[ Well, if this woman really is what she implies she is... Misa thinks she probably knows more about what it's like to create people than Misa herself. The longer she's spent stewing in this — this fantasy of creating a new world — the more she's thought about the ins and outs of it. In a way, it's almost a good thing that she hadn't been able to achieve creating a new world right away, all those moons ago, when the idea of it had been planted in her head as possible. Being forced into thinking about it longer than her typically impulsive temperament would allow has afforded her at least some semblance of introspection, and some higher thought going into the idea.

But not an excess, that's for sure. ]


This person... well, we called him 'Kira,' in my time. [ She clarifies, looking up in thought. For a brief moment, she wonders if there's any benefit to keeping the details close to her chest - but, it's been so long, she doesn't think there's any point in still worrying about the "case" details. ] Kira was killing criminals all over the world to punish them. All mysteriously and suddenly. Usually, they'd die of heart attacks. The police tried for a long time to figure out how he was doing it, but they never did find out.

[ All of it is said with a breezy air, light and unbothered. Misa had been unabashedly pro-Kira even during her time on Earth - being in a new place and among new people has never changed that, ever since she became a shard-bearer. ]

Kira would never kill those who did crimes out of self defense, or because they had to, so it wasn't like he was some maniac just doing things willy-nilly, you know? All he wanted was to punish those who did evil. That's what I want too, in the new world.
affal: (97)

(1/2)

[personal profile] affal 2023-05-31 07:30 am (UTC)(link)
( though they have not experienced many of them, there are times where falling back on characteristic silence is just as wounding as a horribly honest answer might be.

in this moment, makoto finds himself inflicted with both.

time passes, and he's still. quiet. his expression is static, stunned, but as his mind works through what dextera has said and the implications therein, it slowly shifts and changes to pantomime a stage play of what he feels deep, deep within the shadowed and echoing chamber of his chest, in those desolate reaches where the thing that stood to be his heart resided: a tenseness around his eyes belying disbelief, then an increased hollow wanness to his complexion as callous claws are sunk deep into tender internal wounds he knows will never properly heal. )


You - ...You'd just allow yourself to be taken by him?

( he does sense that it is a choice that dextera doesn't believe he's making. dimly, ever-so-dimly, he recalls the false wings of a man who had woven a venomous and ensnaring net of words to curse and bind them together. hate makes this recollection oddly concise.

but, to makoto, who has struggled tooth and nail against the impossibly impervious forces that have buffeted his feeble frame for the entirety of all of his different attempts at life, it is something entirely different. to passively leave himself up to that, to not fight furiously for the chance of anything else, is in and of itself a choice to neglect it. )
affal: (134)

(2/2)

[personal profile] affal 2023-05-31 07:30 am (UTC)(link)
( makoto has always been, and especially after his being brought into Hell to learn to live as a demon, a slave to the violent whim of his moods. his narrow chest is densely packed with material that would serve as quick kindling to ignite into a furious blaze at the slightest provocation, at the smallest thing that might provide a spark. it's not as though dextera would be ignorant to this — once, long ago, he had leveraged his unforgiving ferocity at the other young man when he had pressed a palm to him in Purification.

somehow, this is worse.

the young demon moves without warning, without thinking, flinging himself with immediate and reckless abandon at dextera — he is not, and never has been, physically strong, but the suddenness and wildness with which he acts might catch the other off guard. he would force him to the ground, if he could — he would bare his teeth and clench his fists white-knuckled in the front of his shirt and shake him, slam him against the soft earth, anything he was physically capable of and perhaps even that which he wasn't, all the while thinking quickly and vividly about instead wrapping his hands around his neck and crushing the fragile windpipe within until he grew blue and still. something — something dextera had perhaps entertained in his mind for the briefest of moments in their first meeting, which makoto remembers with a sharp and painful jolt to his shard. the sudden detail and bleed of color into the context of their relationship doesn't help in this moment. this remembrance, aided by anger and pain, only serves to feed his anguish. )


You wouldn't even fight? You wouldn't even try?

( the Communion between them is rent asunder to pulse and surge with the brazenness of what he displays now with plain force and physicality: there is the anger, yes, a white-hot wave of blistering heat that fills his sails and sends him crashing against his friend as a rocky shoreline, but below that fury is a deep, horrible, maddening agony that goes down to the very core of him.

because this feels like abandonment. for this pathetic, wretched creature, there is nothing worse. for makoto, who had neither been granted nor earned the love or acceptance of a single human being while he was alive. for makoto, who had been drawn into Hell with the promise of attention and devotion but was ever denied both, all to forge him and hone him into a weapon that would one day slit the throat and spill the vital blood of the only person he would ever truly love. for makoto, who would never be enough to keep that man tethered to life and to him, as it had proven to be too arduous to do so even though he had been there to share it with him.

he doesn't seek the same from dextera. he knows there is none other he could find the same love — the same madness, as they often felt one in the same — with but J. but of all those he has ever met, human or demon, mortal or immortal, dextera has felt the closest to him in nature. from him, he craves understanding, familiarity, kinship. he wants to seek comfort in him, and for him to do the same in return. but there is also something inherent and inextricable from makoto that is twisted, and so that feeling of closeness warps into something possessive and controlling — ironically similar to that which dextera had just a moment ago verbally consigned himself to, should Zenith reign in victory.

he suddenly goes still, the wind not yet out of his sails but instead held back in the tension of potential energy, one that causes his thin arms and narrow shoulders to shake slightly in exertion. )
And if I claimed you from him? What then? ( his pale, colorless eyes are wide and wild like those of a drowning man grasping at whatever flotsam that might support his weight and save his life. )
helloween: (002🫀)

[personal profile] helloween 2023-05-31 10:25 am (UTC)(link)
[ Damn, she’s still on him and won’t get off! Dark tries deflecting her. ]

I’m a sentient being. Does that mean you care about my life, lady?

[ He tries to extend her empathy to himself, squinting. There’s no way she will say yes! Feeling that he has trapped Gamora in her own argument, Dark puts both hands on his hips and smirks at her arrogantly. ]
helloween: (044🫀)

[personal profile] helloween 2023-05-31 10:28 am (UTC)(link)
[ Dark groans very loudly now, swinging side to side while he sits. With Set quite literally refusing to get out of his hair, he shuts his eyes and tries to think deeply again— something he’s (surprisingly) well capable of, but doesn’t like to do when it’s about emotional or philosophical stuff. He’s fine with learning new magic or deciphering old languages. He’s even fine with physics or math. Dark is a genius by definition, but what’s annoying is all this weird, extremely human sentimentality that Lucien’s bogged him down with. Sentimentality that Set, for whatever reason, seems intent on reminding him of. ]

Shut up. If it’d been a Zenite talking to me right now and not some pale-skinned, cat-dog-jackal-god person from Meridian, we would’ve been reharmonized already.

[ He does not look at Set when Set tells him to. He stares ahead of himself instead, hunched over like a sumo wrestler with both hands on the sides of his folded knees. ]

—I don’t live for Yoko…

[ He mutters. ]

But a world without her in it would suck. If she’s in either one, I don’t care which it is. I’m not scared of gods, demons, or anything else. I’m scared she’s gonna bitch at me for not taking her back to our world, even if it’s a terrible one. She’ll miss all the people she grew up with if I don't.

[ It’s the reason this is all so annoying. Because what he wants is to give Yoko what she wants. ]

But it’s not like Lucien and I dislike any of the people we met here, either. Who knows, maybe he’ll fall in love with someone else. He’s only a kid, after all.
helloween: (011👼)

[personal profile] helloween 2023-05-31 10:34 am (UTC)(link)
Building a new, better world where everybody can be happier. Right?

[ The most simple way it had been explained to him. Lucien nods his wooden head once to answer Link's question. ]

But I don't think Springstar is a bad place. I like the sun, and my friends Dextera and Eustace live there! And I guess maybe you too, Link.

[ Lucien hesitates. A sense of fear creeps over him. ]

You won't take my eye out or anything, w-will you...?
helloween: (055🫀)

[personal profile] helloween 2023-05-31 10:51 am (UTC)(link)
[ A wet lip sound. Looking elsewhere for a moment, the answer Dark pieces together for Makoto is perhaps frustratingly dismissive and optimistic. ]

Well, don't get all emo about it. You'll figure it out eventually, just keep trying there, buddy. Mr. Former Human now Hell Demon with an initial.

[ He slides his hand off the other's small shoulder. ]

Besides, can you really blame me for thinking you were a zombie at first? You have the threads all in you and everything.
leicesters: (251)

[personal profile] leicesters 2023-05-31 11:03 am (UTC)(link)
[Claude is thrown by the deluge of people, places, memories that seem to open before him. Jyn had struggled in her world, she had suffered, she had found a mission she believed in, and now, at the end of it all, she was done. Natural, perhaps, that she would want to leave all of that behind and turn instead to the promises of Zenith.

Or maybe it was just pragmatism, given how much she seems to have been bent towards survival. The lesser, or more appealing, of two evils.

But he doesn't know her. He can only assume. As he drops blood-sap onto her shard, she will be greeted by images of his own, triggered by his own experiences of battling empire: a battlefield, with the banner of the resistance army, held high by his standard-bearer. On the other side of the field, the two-headed eagle on a blood red banner of the Empire. The acrid smell of burning flesh as the Empire unleash a burning, volley, striking down his men around him, the anger he felt at the Emperor he had once considered a schoolmate now turned to his enemy.

I will destroy both the Kingdom and the Alliance, Edelgard had proclaimed, proud, her skeletal axe in hand. Now, in one fell swoop.

The Kingdom fell: Dimitri skewered alive in his vicious desperation to claim Edelgard's head, his blue cape stained red around his broken body. But Claude survived the horrors of that fight, and his forces in the yellow-gold armour of the Leicester Alliance or the red and white of the Knights of Seiros forced the Empire to retreat. Time and again he pressed the attack, the Great Bridge, Fort Merceus, the streets of Enbarr. He drove back the Empire that had brought war and ruin to the continent.

By his side through it all was Byleth. Not the Byleth here in Kenos, but a Byleth of his own world, who smiled more readily, who was more at ease with him, who matched Claude's tactical brilliance with his own strategic genius. You and me, Claude had told him. We can go anywhere. Do anything. I hope you'll always walk in step with me... At least until the day comes when we can look out at the peaceful world we've built together.

That day did come. The war ended, and Byleth was crowned King of the United Kingdom of Fódlan, a symbol of peace and new beginnings. Claude crossed the border east to his homeland, to the prairies and deserts of Almyra, to set his sights on his wider ambitions. To bring peace, too, to reconcile two nations with a long and bitter enmity.

Memories of him kneeling at dawn in Almyra's grand palace, as his father passed onto him the golden diadem of kingship, proof of the lasting peace he had achieved with their once seemingly eternal enemies in Fódlan. Hail Khalid, the King of Unification.

He had laughed. Almyra always had loved its boastful titles.

That had been the new dawn he had wanted, the start of another new journey. It began with diplomatic summits with Fódlan, peace treaties, trade agreements, camels laden with silk and spices, while Fódlan ended its millennium-long isolation and opened up to the people it once hated and feared. Little by little, he hoped the two nations would see each other not as enemies, or lesser, or heretics for their different gods and their different ways. But simply: people.

Now he's here in Kenos, and that dream might still burn up yet as it almost did in the crimson flames of the Empire. He can't give up on it, can't abandon his people or the world he had devoted himself to creating. He doesn't need Zenith, or Yima's promises -- he just needs to go home, to that bright dawn he had chased for so long.

His place was always in Meridian's suns. And so the Zenith leaves him, and instead goes to Jyn's shard, concluding the exchange.]
helloween: (044🫀)

[personal profile] helloween 2023-05-31 11:12 am (UTC)(link)
A nameless archangel? Tch... did God not think you deserved a name?

[ Dark is skeptical and swats sloppily at the man's hand. He doesn't want the physical contact, and this new person definitely reeks of a cunning, ulterior motive sort of way— hyper-religious people are always the worst, usually overcompensating for an ugly side of themself that they don't want others to know about. ]

If you can do anything for me, get me food. I can't keep up this form much longer.

[ And he's in such a bad place that reverting to Lucien in the open can't be good. There are definitely Meridians who would swipe up a child "in the name of justice" or something. ]
helloween: (075🫀)

[personal profile] helloween 2023-05-31 11:16 am (UTC)(link)
What's the point of dying at all?

[ Sassily. Dark starts for the makeshift hut he's built, guiding Flamebringer beside him. ]

Actually, I think there was another weirdo in Highstorm kind of like you that is addicted to fighting too. Didn't get his name, though. He was a ginger kid with blue eyes.

[ Childe. ]
passio: (pic#6016778)

[personal profile] passio 2023-05-31 01:57 pm (UTC)(link)
[ dextera is not unaccustomed to this. not from people, not even from makoto, but this still catches him off-guard. there’s only the briefest hint of warning through the open lines of communion, like the way the air feels just before a lightning strike, but it’s far from enough for dextera to anticipate it any more than instinctively.

makoto lunges, and he’s pushed back so that his back hits the damp ground and a surprised more than pained air is loosed from between his ribs.

he can take physical pressure. there’s no fear of dying under makoto right now, and that’s the one thing that would make him tense up to protect himself in his final moments—instead, it’s the fear of the emotional weight that feels like it’s falling from makoto’s gaze right onto dextera’s chest that makes him restless, almost wild, in a passive mirror of makoto’s impulsive demands.

what’s wrong with not trying? why should he have to try once he’s lost? the indignant thoughts are his sole defense, kept as private as they can be when the roots want them open.

in fleeting anger, he grabs makoto’s wrists—and for a moment, he sees himself as just a slightly different person, purifying someone he cares about at their most vulnerable just so that he doesn’t have to confront the things he doesn’t want to. but makoto stills, and dextera is a merciful god. ]




[ his gaze is clear, fixed on makoto’s face. ]

Then I would go with you. I’d rather go with you.
warmare: (裏切者)

cw: jinba is dark

[personal profile] warmare 2023-05-31 03:36 pm (UTC)(link)
[That's the problem. People die in war. Hayame has watched people suffer and die her entire life. In the breeding stable, the number of yearlings had dwindled year by year until she, her brother, and only a handful reached adulthood intact ready to be sold to the highest bidder. How many had there even been? Toshifuji, a breeding stable yearling one season older who had broken her leg... Hayakusa, a captured mountain jinba who had bucked every groomsmen in the stable until they'd flensed off his arms... The new broodmare whose name she'd never learned, who had nearly kicked the stable master's shoulder to pieces rather than accept being hobbled for mounting...

They'd all died. Toshifuji's neck had been slit so deeply her head almost came off, Hayakusa's severed arms had grown infected, the broodmare's severed hooves had adorned the stable gates... and to not be among their number, she had always had to fight, to be strong, stronger than anyone. She'd put everything aside, locked it all down, and after a while... it hadn't phased her at all. So of course it would have been better if Claude had said nothing at all. Of course she would have preferred if he'd left that wound alone, so that she could deal with it in silence like she always had. She's killed by her own hand since Horos, in Kenos, because she was a warrior, and that is what warriors did, they take heads, they take shards, but she-

She wants to go home. She wants to die (doesn't she?). But she can't do it here, in this foreign land, she has to do it where her death will mean something, where her honor will be cleansed, and Claude...

Her tears are hot and wet on his fingers, staining her cheeks and leaking from beneath the leather eyepatch slipping slightly up her face. The crack in her voice is so pathetic that she wishes she hadn't said anything at all, but-]


You are a fool, Claude von Riegan-

[So why, then, now that her hands are empty of his shard... do they cling to the front of his clothes as if begging him not to stop trying to comfort her?]
redsoil: (pic#16220782)

drives us right off the cliff together

[personal profile] redsoil 2023-05-31 04:06 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Truly, he hates Communion. This pervasive mental unity that batters at his fragile walls and tears through them as one might easily carve through an overripe fruit; Ruby's terror so easily splits him, aimed right for the vulnerable core of his person — that place where so many have found purchase in these terrible caverns. His heart aches for them all, it agonizes and struggles against his own mind, his cruel nature; he wants to punish her ( all of them ) for failing to believe in him, for not looking to him alone in their times of need. He wants to punish himself, for being such a waste of a god to them all that they fled into the dark. ( He wants to be there, with them, in the dark. )

He cannot resolve her terror, but at least — maybe, she can know she is not alone in it. That someone, somewhere, screams for help that never came and never would for them, as well. As the ice in Ruby's heart splinters, it finds the core of his own heart — his own tongue falters, stills. He strangles on the words he wants to speak to her. Nothing feels right, nothing he can say will be enough. When she was with him in Meridian, he never cared for her utility or devotion — had he not said that? Could she not believe him? And he knows, now. No, she could not.

Eventually, even he would turn on her. The immutable truth in her heart would not let her see them beyond the time limit she truly believed was imposed upon them. ]


You need to hide and be safe. [ He urges that of her. ] I am not going anywhere in this life without you.

[ Often, he thinks of the divide between Meridian and Zenith — the ideological mission that drives the two is cruel, it demands they stand apart when really, they need one another. They must need one another, or the ma'at of the world will rip itself asunder long before any of them know what happened, why it happened, what the wisest and most encompassing path to walk is. ( Yet, he loves the fighting. But. Right now, he really hates the divide. There is no reason for it to exist, if it must part people who need one another. )

( Call-and-response. As she yields the numbing ache of her reality to him, in the form of family that despises her, blames her, criticizes and wishes for her death, he also cannot help the way his own pain moves to latch onto hers. A smiling, warm-eyed brother who he admired for so long, served proudly at the side of — becoming a warped, twisted stranger before his eyes. Poison in wine, numbing him from the belly outward. Hands upon him, the need to save someone he loves and lives and would rather die for. Think about what you must do? What is it that you can do?, end of the line, of course he will yield everything. His pride, his dignity, his power — even his body. A sister who sees it, she sees it all, she knows the truth and she turns her back. She looks upon him as if he deserved it. )

Not a man, not a god, not anyone Rudbeckia de Borgia could find safety in. Right? Right. ]


You know how to get to my shrine. You always have a place there.
leicesters: (213)

[personal profile] leicesters 2023-05-31 04:39 pm (UTC)(link)
I know.

[He says it softly. He knows he's a fool. Plenty of people have called him as much, or strange, or delusional, or naive, or softhearted. Yet he still can't find it in himself to leave her, not when she clings to him so and he can feel his touch awash in her tears. If he could do something, anything more for her in this moment, anything that could ease her suffering, he would, and the green eyes that study her are filled not with pity, but with grief. For her, for worlds they might never see again, here, at the end of all things. For everything they've lost, or for her, she might never have had.

Despite all that, she's treated his very soul itself with such care, accepted him despite her words, had let him in when she was at her most vulnerable. How could he not care for her in return? How can he ignore his growing affection for her, threatening to overcome all else? He guides her down gently to press his forehead to hers, a tight, heavy feeling squeezing at his chest. If he lets this moment pass by now, he might regret it in the little time they have left.

For once, his calculating mind switches off. He closes the gap between them both, capturing her mouth in a gentle kiss.]
warmare: (軽蔑)

[personal profile] warmare 2023-05-31 04:40 pm (UTC)(link)
[It is slightly difficult to see when Hayame raises an eyebrow in doubt at what someone else says when much of the left side of her face is covered with a leather eyepatch, but she does it anyway, as if she continues to forget (no, deny) that she is missing that ocular organ.]

Then that is not a friendship.

[She pretends, likewise, that she understands what it is to be a friend- something she has never had and never pursued. The closest Hayame had ever known was hearing the occasional ballad or epic tale of warriors who were brothers in arms, because there was no room for weaknesses such as that in the breeding stable she had been raised in, but in the stories... they were equal, were they not? "Friends".

And it was true that despite how much he'd seemed to try and know about her... No, there had been that moment in the stables when he had hinted at something, but beyond that... he was all smiles and jokes, not what she would call honesty. (Not that she could talk... but she wasn't the one trying to claim people as friends.)

What he reveals so casually, though...]


- a noble.

[She repeats it to herself disdainfully, her lips pursing thin. She knew what nobles were like. The men who showed up for Exhibition and Auction Day, lounging as others hurried around to tend to their every whim, simpering and subservient. The ones who used the Armless behind the stables to "sample" what they might purchase. The ones who leered and ran their hands over her body to inspect her teeth, her hooves, her accursed womanhood.

It explained his silver tongue, but-]


Of course he is a noble.

[Her thin lips curl into a sneer, her poor opinion of such people (the people she had been raised all her life to eventually serve) grown obvious.]

Something he conveniently forgot to mention. But perhaps you are right. Men of such means do so enjoy each other's company.

[And she is offended enough by his silence to spitefully entertain the belief that such a bond might mean that Claude felt some sort of kinship with the foul elf she now called Vern.]
warmare: (武士)

[personal profile] warmare 2023-05-31 04:58 pm (UTC)(link)
No, you are not.

[Hayame has no plan to reveal just who it was that she trusted to take most of the Zenith energy from her body first, but she answers the general question without hesitation. No, this was not her first time. Though she hates to reveal the location of her shard, right now turning around and trying to conceal it would hardly disguise the location, so with a low tch she fishes into her top... and comes back out with a shard.

The idea of other Zeniths who won't take advantage of the situation... It might make her laugh if she was the type for it.

As it was, she tried to pretend just slightly that she did not despise the weakness inherent in this act, like she didn't hate the sharing of thoughts and energies. She holds her hand out with her shard in it, wary for any sign that Rosaria might betray her instead of cooperating.]


I doubt I will need another. Come. Take the last of it.

[Before another vision rears its ugly head.]
fishfearme: (look down)

[personal profile] fishfearme 2023-05-31 05:00 pm (UTC)(link)
[Was it friendship? Wasn't it? Byleth wasn't sure. Claude's friendly overtures, gifts and sympathy was certainly the closest Byleth had to it outside of Jeralt's gruff affection and his intense and complicated rivalry with Shez. Yet, now that he was pondering it, with Hayame's succinct judgement on the issue, could he truly call it friendship when it was one-sided?

If he didn't truly know Claude, or understand him or even felt connected to him beyond the superficial...

Byleth wasn't sure, and he didn't know how to ask Claude without potentially offending him. The simple fact was as much as their relationship frustrated him, he didn't want to lose it either. This closest thing he had to 'friendship' here in Kenos, even at the edge of existence where their lifespans were probably measured in days at most, he didn't want to say or do the wrong thing and lose it. Byleth was fearless in battle, but in matters of the heart, he was fragile.

So, he let that topic slide by the wayside, fixating instead on the disdain that spread across Hayame's expression at the word 'noble'. Byleth understood. Nobles were a diverse breed, and many of them venomous. Even with the buffer of Jeralt who mostly handled their job acquisition, Byleth understood that many nobles were selfish and backstabbing, high on their superiority due to bloodlines and Crests. They were, in Jeralt's ever wise words: self-cannibalising weasels. It drew a strong mental image - and a strong emotional response.

But Claude wasn't just a noble, and he wasn't selfish or greedy like most of them. He moved to try and clear up the potential misunderstanding he may've caused.]


I don't think Claude harbours any empathy or kinship with Vern. I meant it more that... considering his position as the leader of Leicester - a nation in Fódlan - he's used to managing conflict within his ranks using diplomacy. Unlike kings or emperors, his rule is far more susceptible to the currents amongst the other nobility. He has to make concessions to keep otherwise odious allies on his side, rather than against him. I believe that was his intention with Vern... he's part of Meridian, and thus likely felt he cannot be harshly reprimanded in case this caused damaging conflict within the faction as a whole.

[Byleth ducked his head slightly.]

...however, this is just a theory. I am a simple mercenary, so I can't claim full knowledge on how the courts of the ruling elite function. It, of course, doesn't excuse Claude's... behaviour in certain aspects, but it may explain things.
muchalucha: (pic#16286350)

1/2

[personal profile] muchalucha 2023-05-31 05:16 pm (UTC)(link)
[ What floods through Communion is discordant and frenzied, and she knows that she’s struck a nerve. It’s more of one than she really intended, but just how sensitive Silco was about this subject would be a surprise to nearly anyone.

His hands still find their mark on her neck. She lets him. There’s so much anger, so much hate, and it’s twisted and polluted him in a way unlike any she’s ever personally seen before. His hands tighten around her throat, and she chokes out a noise reflexively as her hands come up.

However, only one reaches up to grip a wrist. With her other hand, she reaches out to Silco’s face to gently touch at the marred side, his tlatlacolli made manifest. It’s never been her role as a god, but still, she wishes she could reduce this pain for him like Tlazoltéotl did as a sin eater. Silco called love empty, but so is this hate. It’ll only ever twist and ruin him further, but he’s stubbornly determined to cling to it. Maybe he feels that’s all he has.

If this weren’t a fight for an Oracle and if she thought it might soothe his anger, she might have let him continue. It fits with her view of her role as a god, of sacrifice and how it can be offered, but it would be wasted. There’s little worse than a pointless sacrifice.

It's just a momentary consideration with the soft touch of her hand, but her voice comes to him (and everyone else, technically) in Communion. ]


I’m not going to kill you. But this will hurt.
muchalucha: (pic#16300789)

[personal profile] muchalucha 2023-05-31 05:16 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Her hand on his face comes down quickly as her grip on his wrist moves up to his forearm because she’ll need the leverage. She grabs at the top of his arm and then twists inward. It’s not easy with the fatigue of the sap and with Silco fighting her, but Silco is no Shimmered, and Quetzalcoatl was a force to be reckoned with even without her divinity at all. It only takes just enough precisely applied force, but with a bit of a wet crack, she forces the joint of his arm out of his shoulder.

Just by how he had acted when he killed her, he’s certain that this will be enough to force him to let go completely and likely withdraw. He’s not unused to fights, but he’s used to other people doing his dirty work for him. It’s why her gaze does flicker to the other god and the demon as she draws back as if to tell them through her look alone that she’s not looking for a fight with them. Set she trusts, but Sebastian, well… She just hopes that Silco will feel the pressure to withdraw and lick his wounds, so to speak.

This is her mercy, since it’s a wound that won’t kill him down here. She could likely kill him herself if she wanted and even tip the scales of the Oracle in their favor, but… There’s a point she’s determined to make with Silco now. Killing him would ruin the chance of it without repair. ]