The Seeds of Unrest: the Iconoclast Oracle

[beleos]

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

Comments

OTA

[fishfearme]

❈ I. Awakening.

[It felt like a slap to the face.

Even Byleth, outwardly unflappable and pragmatically focused, couldn't help but loiter at the base of the Tree in a dazed state. The empty sky and that sickly sun was unbearable to look at, so Byleth simply stared up at the Tree instead, as if hoping that telepathically conveying his utter refusal to accept their situation would wind back time and have life return to Kenos and the Tree both.

Of course, none of that happened, so Byleth resorted to Desperate Attempt #2. Praying was alien to him, as he had never done the act before in his life, deeming it pointless, but within him slept a goddess - he still felt her - so he could be seen with his head slightly bowed and a hand pressed over his unbeating heart, murmuring something too softly to be heard.

But for those who come closer, or are keen of hearing, might hear:]

Sothis, wake up...

❈ II. Abandon Hope - Exploration.

[He went to Springstar, because where else would be go? The heat of the sun was unbearable despite its sickly shade, yet he found some measure of relief when he pulled his cloak over his head, using it as a pseudo-shade. It reminded him a little of the cranes that would fish on the rivers of Leicester, though, using their wings to cast shade that the fish would come to shelter in - only to be scooped up by the crane's deft beak.

So, for those also exploring Springstar, you may come across someone with their cloak draped over the upper part of their body - probably easily mistaken as a thing rather than a person from a distance...

(He'll mostly be in the Katoikitikós district trying to find his house, but he can also be spotted in other parts of Springstar as well in an effort to just, figure out what happened).]

❈ III. The Purge - [BYLETH].

[Byleth was never one to be wracked with indecision - he ensured to always be decisive, if cautious, in his approach to situations, yet here, beneath the roots of the Tree, forced into such close proximity to those he knew were threats and not to be trusted...

To say he hadn't slept since they came down here wouldn't be an exaggeration. He literally had not slept, agitatedly roaming around with his back constantly kept close to the wall, trying to ignore the voices rattling around in his skull: not Sothis, though they were just as cutting as she could be at times. What ifs, seductive murmurs of, really, why bother with the old world, just make a new one, and salvage only Jeralt - that's the only one you need, isn't it? Just Jeralt? He's the only one who truly understands you. Why bother trying to bring back the whole world? You really going to risk Jeralt for a world that's been filled with nothing but war and conflict and backstabbings? Really?

But that would mean acknowledging Jeralt was dead (he was not, he told himself, Jeralt was alive, because their worlds were not yet gone, he was alive, he was alive, he was alive), and that was something Byleth steadfastedly refused to consider. So, he paced, he ignored the voices in his head, he felt like he was ready to claw himself out of his own skin, he muttered to the walls - Sothis, will you tell these voices to shut up already, it's not like you to tolerate interlopers - and sort of lost track of what day it was, while the corruption seared in his veins.

So, yeah. For any who want to approach someone who's clearly sort of. unravelling at the seams. Here you go.]

❈ IV. The Purge - [SOTHIS].

[Sothis was disdainful of the ritual in motion, and she didn't bother to hide her contempt of it - or of the little ones she was forced to share close proximity with. She was disorientated and perplexed... and angry, an aimless, vicious sort that had no true target but simmered in their sap-like blood, regardless. How her vessel had fallen into this ridiculous situation, she didn't know, but once they had escaped it she'd be having words with them...

But as it is, she was at the disadvantage and the vessel was struggling to function - both mentally and physically. She huddled in the shadows, her brilliant green eyes carrying a preternatural light as they slid, heavy-lidded, over the great hall with that offensive effigy presiding over them like it was their lord. She wanted to set it aflame, but knew it would be a pointless task. It was vexing, but this powerlessness was a bitter pill she was becoming accustomed to swallowing these days.]

I suppose even a progenitor god must endure an unpleasant turn of events now and again...

[For sake of appearances, she ensured to modulate her voice to remain as Byleth's - some may query why a young woman's voice would be coming from him otherwise....... nevermind that she was putting in the bare minimum to actually act like him.]

...but did it really have to be somewhere so dull? I'm sick of looking at these people.

[Were this vessel not of such poor quality, and their powers stifled in general, she might've just murdered them all and awaited the end in peace and quiet. Instead she was forced to be, ugh, cautious, and sit and wait in the shadows, feeling the corruption burn in her blood - not as biting as before, as Byleth did manage something useful and had offloaded the 'Zenith' into someone else, but... not enough. She needed to purge the rest.]

IV - Sothis

[erbe]

[Being stuck in an enclosed space is unnerving enough, but seeing so many people act different from how she remembers them is off-putting too. Is it the stress, the ritual, or is this their True Selves? Either way, Tohsaka finds herself curious at the hostility Byleth exudes.

Really, it's hard for anyone to hide anything with all the Communion leakage. Though she arrives sometime after Sothis gives a bad yelp review of the Ritual Chamber.]

Something upset you?

[fishfearme]

[Sothis barely held back the grimace when a mortal came scurrying up to her, venting her frustration in a short, explosive exhale like a bad-tempered bull. Still, she obligingly turned towards the little one, keeping her expression as flat as her vessel normally had it.

Play nice, she reminded herself irritably. You're weak and powerless here (comparatively to her original self). You can't be picking fights and then dying in a humiliating fashion.]

Surely that's a jest. What isn't upsetting in this situation?

[Not only was there no privacy - in both the physical sense and the mental, though Sothis did her best in crafting a walled garden within her mind so the more damning thoughts didn't slip free - but she was forced to watch everyone writhe around dramatically about their unimportant motivations while not knowing who anyone was. She recognised two: the king of Faerghus (descendant of a Crest-thief and corpse defiler), and the leader of the Leicester Alliance (another descendant of a Crest-thief and corpse defiler). Everyone else were complete strangers to her, though Byleth had a sense of familiarity for some of them.

This one had the faintest flicker. Acquainted, then?]

[erbe]

[Oh, wow. Even the speech patterns are a little different. Weird, this is definitely weird (what's actually weird is how much she pays attention, but enough about that).]

Oh, just everybody getting so close and personal. And isn't it wonderful to know how everyone feels all the time? No food, no water — it's just a real great time all around, really.

[Nobody needs Communion bleed to know that's all sarcasm.]

I meant you, specifically. What gives you the right to be so dramatic about it? Is it the crowd? Lack of fresh air?

[hauntedking]

[ Dimitri continues to struggle with... everything, really. His own exhaustion, the wave of despair and anger that's come with this ritual. He hates every part of it. But he's been trying to keep a lid on it. Even with the continued strangeness of the situation, the utter bleakness of this wretched hole... there are the people he knows, of course. But Byleth - Byleth looks different. Feels different in the Communion. He finally works up the idea to approach - not that there's a lot of places to be in this place. ]

...Byleth?

[ He seems out of sorts. ]

You've been withdrawn. [ He's on edge, clearly. He practically screams it. ]

[fishfearme]

[...of course it'd be someone familiar with Byleth.

The spark of recognition that resonated within Byleth informed Sothis that their relationship had seemingly evolved beyond the distant contract between mercenary and employer - and when that had happened, she had no idea. Her last solid memories had been the night when they slew the remnants of the Agarthans, and then she had decided to drift off into a deep sleep to try and recover more of her power. 'There's no more threats to be concerned over,' she had foolishly thought. 'My vessel has survived this long without me, it can survive for a bit longer,' she had decided idiotically.

She hadn't even intended to awaken - it had only been because Byleth had been mentally agonising over something so loudly she had flailed awake, ready to bite the throat out of whatever dared to touch her vessel. Byleth never reached out to her like this, not with this urgency, so she had assumed... but instead, she ended up stuck in this situation...]

Withdrawn. [She drew the word out slightly, tamping down the urge to scoff. Is that how he saw it?] Hm. Yes. You, meanwhile, seem agitated. What ails you.

[Since Byleth would give a damn about this mortal, she had to give a damn too, she supposed.]

[hauntedking]

[ Dimitri can't quite read his (her) mind, but he can sense the irritation and the surliness. Although he's not surprised by it. He's almost as strained, surely. On the edge. It's only recently that he's begun to make his own decision regarding how to move forward. ]

I won't ask if you're well. I suspect none of us are.

[ He purses his lips. ]

...I feel as if we have a choice to make, but - but you seem even more out of sorts.

IV

[sterngaze]

[Days of being trapped within the ritual chamber, at the mercy of his thirst and his exhaustion, of his doubts and those of others, have left Liem pale and drawn. Deep shadows ring his dark eyes; from the withered, haunted look about him, he likely hasn't had a drop to drink or a wink of sleep since he arrived.

His only concession to appearances is the poise that he still clutches to, as though by standing straight and moving carefully, he can hide the worst of his strain. So it is that he approaches Byleth (or the god in Byleth's body) with an approximation of his usual genteel manner, despite the air of defeat that follows him like an echo, beyond even his ability to rein in anymore.]

You seem unlike yourself, Mister Eisner.

[He observes it neutrally, regarding the god with Byleth's face with wary curiosity.]

I did not think to hear such complaints from you, especially in these circumstances.

[fishfearme]

[A wilting wallflower approached her, and inside was a spark of familiarity: Byleth knew this... person. Person? Those dark eyes were not that of a Fódlan human...

But Byleth's spark of recognition held no caution or concern. As wary as she was, she'd not lash out and create enemies when before there were none. In her powerless state, she'd be unable to squash what biting insects would mount a retaliation against her - and as decisive as she could be, she wasn't reckless. Well, usually. Her vessel's safety was paramount, even if they were just sitting around awaiting the end, as it were.]

Hmph. I was unaware that you were such an expert on me...

[Hrm, she couldn't rightly call him 'mortal' or 'human', could she? Uncertain as she was on what exactly he was. Perhaps he was a breed of human with very dark eyes? Their genetics were highly diverse and prone to mutation...]

...in any case, it is rude to eavesdrop. My grumblings were for my ears and mine alone. I would not want to interfere in the little ones' navel-gazing, after all.

[sterngaze]

[Without his magic Liem cannot discern Byleth's auras, cannot tell if there is an enchantment at work, or if his alignment is suddenly unusual. But he can tell easily that the solemn, formal man with his strange, silent heart is acting very different from the time they'd spoken in Alenroux, and the occasions when he'd seen him speak over public communions.

Many of them have been acting different, trapped in this cavern and plagued with corruption. But that is exactly why Liem manages to summon his curiosity, despite the cloud of resignation hanging over him.]

It would be foolish of me to close my ears to those around me in this circumstance.

["The little ones"? No, this person does not speak like Byleth at all. This goes beyond a shift of personality due to shard corruption; it is as if he has become an entirely different person.]

Have you re-Harmonized already, then? Cleared your mind of the lingering qualms that the Oracle forced upon us?

IV

[leicesters]

[Claude has been veering between trying to maintain calm and stopping this whole thing turning into a bloodbath, and generally just keeping to himself in the hopes that if he fades into the background, he'll come out of the other end of this alive. He isn't notably strong without a weapon to rely on, and so old survival strategies win the day. Survival strategies like a certain boy hiding in a certain cart at a market, as he's sure Byleth would recall -- though he probably never put two and two together on who that was. In short, he just has to avoid attention for as long as possible. He's not invested in the outcome of who claims the Oracle, and he's not about to stick his neck out to claim it for what might already be a lost cause.

Still, he's doing the rounds and checking on Byleth. Everyone's nerves are getting more and more frayed, and even Claude can't hide that the Zenith corruption gnawing away at him is making him miserable, with his usually muted communion now amplified to a discordant undercurrent.

He approaches Byleth, hearing the tail end of him muttering something to himself, and he offers a joke with a little forced humour--]

Oh, I'm sure they're sick of looking at you too. No need to be mean about it.

[fishfearme]

[The sheer willpower it took for Sothis not to let out the most passive-aggressive and aggravated sigh Byleth's pitiful mortal lungs could muster was tremendous. As it was she stifled the urge into a bad-tempered grunt, angling her head fractionally to gaze at Claude in the same manner a horse would suspiciously squint at something trying to approach its flank.

The Leader of the Leicester Alliance, a man that her vessel had passing interaction with - if that - when she had last been awake. Now her vessel's soul practically lurched with recognition, and she irritably swatted him back down before he distracted her. Just what has happened while she has slumbered, that her vessel got so friendly and close with those like Dimitri and Claude?

She harboured no genuine ill-will to either of them, but the fact that their blood carried stolen Crests, and their lineage the defiled bones of her children, did not endear her to them at all. Still, it was her vessel's choice on who he chose to consort with, she supposed...]

My spoken words are mild compared to my thoughts. [Now those were 'mean'. She pivoted more towards Claude, to direct her heavy-lidded, piercing stare more head-on.] You look as if you are dying. Have you not yet purged the corruption within you?

[leicesters]

[Byleth could be known to be blunt, but his rudeness was typically an action of low social skills than intentionally being scathing. Still, this is a situation stressful to them all, and he wouldn't be the first to behave unusually, so he doesn't read into it too deeply.]

It's a work in progress. [Said work involves identifying who he can trust to trade without their trying to sway him with more corruption. He smiles weakly and taps at one of the antler-like branches growing from his head.] Not much I can do about these though.

[Even if he snapped them off, which would probably be painless, he has a sneaking suspicion they'll just grow back.]

What about you? Have you harmonised yet?

iii — byleth

[vallt]

[she's spent significant time inside of a prison cell. it'd been six months on wobani before the alliance had found her, six months with a cellmate whose name she hadn't bothered to remember, who likely would've killed her before long; it's been months on other occasions well before that, with other cellmates she hadn't bothered to remember beyond her escape.

still, there's something about being here in the chambers, below empty, crumbling cities, more than anywhere else, that makes jyn feel like a fucking caged animal.

it's the heightened tensions that come, unavoidable, through the communion space; it's her own deteriorating state wearing her down, bringing anger to the surface even more readily than it usually comes. she'd even taken to pacing in the early hours, too, from wall to wall, back and forth, before the whole exercise had proved useless, and she'd only been left to sit, fingernails digging into her palms through clenched fists.

maybe that's what she finds so annoying about the pacing in front of her now. maybe that's what gets her to lift her head, and:]

By all means, [she says, voice dry, but with an edge,] keep wearing a hole into the ground.

[fishfearme]

[For a moment Byleth wasn't sure if that voice was a new one to add to the insistent whisperings plaguing him, before he realised that, oh, no, it came from outside his head. He sluggishly stopped and turned around in a slow circle before his gaze landed on Jyn and realised - ah.

He hadn't started hallucinating actual spectres, yet, so, she was likely real - probably.]

...if that was possible, then I should continue. Perhaps I could tunnel our way out of here...

[It sounded like a joke. He was far too frazzled for jokes.]

[vallt]

[the first thing jyn thinks is: at least he's stopped the pacing.

the thought may not be the kindest, but it softens her considerably, nevertheless; it has her looking at byleth now, truly looking at him. studying, as some of the lines on her face become less defined. no one here is in a particularly great state, but just from what she can tell, he appears worse off than most.

and there's no reason to press her own irritation on someone in that state.

she doesn't get to her feet, but from where she sits, she shifts slightly closer.]

You'd be doing all of us a favor. [the edge has left her voice now, faded as quickly as it had arisen. a fraction of a smile flickers before it, too, is gone.] Assuming there'd be anything to find when we left.

ii

[epiprocta]

[ This blazing sun sucks. Times like this, his habit of wearing all black really works against him; his shirt's practically plastered against his skin with how sodden it is, sweat dripping off the point of his chin. But still, Gen clicks his tongue before ducking out from the shade of one building in the Viomichanikós district to the next, squinting against the bright sunlight as he casts about his surroundings.

Even more than the sun, it sucks seeing this place in this state.

He's grown used to the bustle and activity of this area around the factories, and seeing the emptied warehouses and desolate streets makes something ache in his chest. A thorough scouring of Victor's factory had yielded few clues of what had happened, awarding him with a meager handful of tools in poor condition, and Gen wipes the sweat out of his eyes as he looks to the next building he can search --

-- what the fuck is that.

He freezes when he spots movement down the block. Some sort of ... big, black lump? The air's practically shimmering from the heat radiating off the cobblestones, making it difficult to make out any details. So -- for once, Gen makes a cautious move instead of just barging in for a fight.

Rusted wrench held tight in one hand in lieu of a weapon, with the other he withdraws a bolt from his pocket to hurl at that 'lump' at full force. ]

[fishfearme]

[The bolt struck the lump with a dull 'thmp', and the shambling creature paused... and lifted the cloak so a very human face peered out from beneath the fabric, their expression one of mild curiosity.]

Ah... did something... hit me...?

[Even with the safety of his personal shade, the heat was staggering, the air warped and distorted and light half-dazzling him, so it was difficult to make out his surroundings. He genuinely thought for a split second he just imagined that phantom strike, until his gaze landed on the bolt lying harmlessly next to his boot.]

Hm? [He bent down to pick it up.]

[epiprocta]

[ Oh. It's just some ... loser.

It takes a moment of squinting to be sure, given the way the air practically writhes from the heat, but he can make out what looks like a human hand. Easy enough connecting the dots once he's clarified that. It's just some weirdo deciding to wander around with a trash bag covering him.

Gen huffs an exhale before hurling another bolt at the 'loser,' where it bonks off his shoulder. ]

The hell's wrong with you.

[ Said as Gen tosses a third little bolt in his hand, like he's preparing it for another toss. He's standing in the shade of a little awning just outside the factory, but it's still hot enough that his shirt's splotchy with damp and sweat's dripping into his eyes as he scowls. ]

You make a hobby of running around in shitty costumes?

i

[hurricaneofblood]

Did you end up naming the tree?

[ The remark itself could be thought of as mocking, but the tone is much more understanding. His tail swishes behind him as he draws closer, tipping his head up to look toward the seemingly dead tree. ]

Quite a sight. [ A beat. ] When I first arrived to this place, the tree seemed to be filled with malice and hatred. [ Those emotions, anyway, seemed to be swirling around inside it. He willingly took them on, even though it nearly killed him. Still -- ]

And then the Blight. [ Hm. ] Which do you think killed it?

[fishfearme]

[Byleth didn't bother correcting his assumption - he felt a flicker of wry humour at imagining Sothis's indignation at being compared to a dead tree, in fact - and lowered his hand where it rested over his chest.]

I cannot say. It could be the miasma of malice, or the Blight... or perhaps it simply died.

[Trees were both hardy yet sensitive to their surroundings. If the land sickened, then so too, would the tree, and it seemed Kenos was at its terminal stage of this particular illness.]

The 'how' doesn't particularly matter now. What does is... what we do now.

[He turned more towards his impromptu companion, blinking slowly.]

...I don't know your name.

[hurricaneofblood]

Hn.

[ He thinks that it would be pretty funny if the tree just died on its own. It held out against everything then just keeled over just because. ]

Dying just for funsies.

[ Finishing his thought aloud, he looks back to his companion: ]

Flamebringer. [ A beat. ] I don't know your name, either.

exploration.

[diversionist]

[ it is a fool's errand to look for survivors in this dead city.

he thinks this, knows this, says as much. if he's affected by the abrupt disappearance of all other life in the cities after weeks spent to save them, he doesn't express or show it. this isn't the first time he's encountered such a loss. this isn't even the second time.

there may not be people to found, however, but there are information and supplies. or, rather — the shard-bearers lack supplies, even the cities lack supplies, but there are scraps worth looking for. he's broken the glass of a window on a deserted building and stashed one of the shards on his person as a makeshift weapon, has some vague hope of finding a real weapon, or food, or something besides the unrelenting heat.

he emerges from a building, sees byleth — or, well, a vaguely person-shaped thing that resolves into byleth when he approaches. asks, matter-of-fact, ]

Have you found anything?

[fishfearme]

[Byleth lifted his cloak to peer at who called out to him - and recognised it was Melshi, the one who had accompanied him on the journey into the Beyond. Guard somewhat lowered - the man was still designated as 'ally' in his mind - he ambled a little closer, though he did not lower his cloak from where it was shielding him from the relentless sun.]

No, not yet. I was focused more on possible clues as to what has happened, but... I've been unsuccessful on that front.

[He shifted his weight slightly. Even with his tireless stamina, it was exhausting hold his arms up like this to make effective shade with his cloak. Also this heat...]

What about yourself? Have you found any useful supplies or weapons?

[diversionist]

[ whatever irritation he'd had with byleth at the time of the journey, and whatever assessments he might have made, he's calm and businesslike now. similarly: byleth is a fellow bearer and ally, in this moment, against the strangeness of these empty cities and burning sun. his habitual layers and overcoat, hood pulled over his head, help against the heat, though exposed areas of skin around his wrists and throat show the beginnings of burning. ]

Cutlery, [ he says, wry, ] and mostly rusted, at that. The only good thing is that this place is so empty, there's no one to defend against.

[ well, as of yet. there's a shard of glass he'd pried off a broken window hidden in one of his pockets, because it'd been sharper than most alternatives. he isn't letting his guard down. ]