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Entry tags:
- !event,
- arknights: gavial,
- baroque: koriel xii (dextera),
- bastard!!: dark schneider,
- boy's abyss: gen minegishi,
- expanse (the): amos burton,
- fire emblem: byleth eisner,
- fire emblem: claude von riegan,
- fire emblem: dimitri a. blaiddyd,
- fire emblem: yuri leclerc,
- granblue fantasy: eustace,
- jinba: hayame,
- legend of zelda (the): midna,
- locked tomb (the): john gaius,
- oc: liem talbott,
- star wars: cassian andor,
- star wars: jyn erso,
- vampire hunter d: d
Toxic Love: The Exalt Oracle
NOTHING GOES OFF WITHOUT A HITCH
You feel it, the moment that the Exalt oracle opens its eyes, like something that rips through your body from head to toe, something that feel like fire, wild. It sears into your veins, like acid and fire, something that triggers something that makes you want to run, or perhaps turn and face something head on. Before you can find what sets you off – if you could find it. Bearers know what this sensation is, it is different but the same at its core. The emotions, the feelings it sparks are different – but in the end, you know it for what it is: An Oracle.
Kenos groans from the awakening, like a part of a whole sparks to life, and though you do not know what it is that they want yet, you understand and know their existence down to your core. That feeling to attack or defend, perhaps even flee, does not leave you, but instead it fills your veins, you feel it thrumming, pulsing, like the beat of a heart – if one has one. With the sense of awakening, bearers know the shape of what comes next, they will be asked to act, to do. You do not know how it will happen, or what the Exalt will ask of you, but the knowledge that it will happen is borne from experience, not from the Oracle itself.
As you begin to move, to… look, you are not long for this day, it clouds your mind, a hazy, drowsy feeling takes over, the encroaching dark that threatens to swarm, crowding from the sides, taking over your vision – until… it fully takes over, and Bearers are put into a deep slumber.
When bearers awaken, it’s difficult to make sense of what your sleepy eyes see. Structures begin to swim into view, and they like tall figures looking down upon you. It’s difficult to tell what they are at first, but as you wake up, you begin to see, they are not people, or creatures, but long spore-like stalks. Some have ribbed overgrowths that you can see, and some end in growths that ripple and hang over, but have no “cap”. They tower over the bearers, like towering spires and buildings, on all sides, as if they were trapped in a ring of them. As bearers look around them they will notice tall green spires around them as well, and it takes a moment for things to really settle in. Mushrooms. Blades of grass. The springy moss about them is almost as tall as they are, low to the ground. There are pebbles that appear as boulders, and the thunderous steps nearby indicate an insect or arachnid walking by, far larger than you. There is a stillness to this space, like a held breath, and as the bearers awake, and regard one another, and then to the center of the circle is – a small effigy in the center.
It is here, the Exalt Oracle, and you feel compelled to regard it, before you are given a pang down to your core. It compels you – pleads, asks, begs, and demands, all in one – for what it wishes for. Precious mementos and precious items that they are missing. They have been lost, and they are somewhere within the Liosachán. It beseeches the bearers to return its items, and begs they be returned here to the circle. There are no words, but there is a pleading sensation, a feeling that these items are treasured by this Oracle.
You feel at your sides, your pockets, and find one item on your person, a weapon, a companion, whatever it is you would bring with you to the conflict, shrunk down to a tiny size with you.
Stay steadfast, bearers, and capture theflag Oracle!
Kenos groans from the awakening, like a part of a whole sparks to life, and though you do not know what it is that they want yet, you understand and know their existence down to your core. That feeling to attack or defend, perhaps even flee, does not leave you, but instead it fills your veins, you feel it thrumming, pulsing, like the beat of a heart – if one has one. With the sense of awakening, bearers know the shape of what comes next, they will be asked to act, to do. You do not know how it will happen, or what the Exalt will ask of you, but the knowledge that it will happen is borne from experience, not from the Oracle itself.
As you begin to move, to… look, you are not long for this day, it clouds your mind, a hazy, drowsy feeling takes over, the encroaching dark that threatens to swarm, crowding from the sides, taking over your vision – until… it fully takes over, and Bearers are put into a deep slumber.
When bearers awaken, it’s difficult to make sense of what your sleepy eyes see. Structures begin to swim into view, and they like tall figures looking down upon you. It’s difficult to tell what they are at first, but as you wake up, you begin to see, they are not people, or creatures, but long spore-like stalks. Some have ribbed overgrowths that you can see, and some end in growths that ripple and hang over, but have no “cap”. They tower over the bearers, like towering spires and buildings, on all sides, as if they were trapped in a ring of them. As bearers look around them they will notice tall green spires around them as well, and it takes a moment for things to really settle in. Mushrooms. Blades of grass. The springy moss about them is almost as tall as they are, low to the ground. There are pebbles that appear as boulders, and the thunderous steps nearby indicate an insect or arachnid walking by, far larger than you. There is a stillness to this space, like a held breath, and as the bearers awake, and regard one another, and then to the center of the circle is – a small effigy in the center.
It is here, the Exalt Oracle, and you feel compelled to regard it, before you are given a pang down to your core. It compels you – pleads, asks, begs, and demands, all in one – for what it wishes for. Precious mementos and precious items that they are missing. They have been lost, and they are somewhere within the Liosachán. It beseeches the bearers to return its items, and begs they be returned here to the circle. There are no words, but there is a pleading sensation, a feeling that these items are treasured by this Oracle.
You feel at your sides, your pockets, and find one item on your person, a weapon, a companion, whatever it is you would bring with you to the conflict, shrunk down to a tiny size with you.
Stay steadfast, bearers, and capture the
SURVIVAL OF THE SMALLEST ( DAYS 1 - 5 )
Unlike the still, stale apocalypse that had been the setting of the Iconoclast Oracle, the greenhouse is lush and vibrant with activity.
The Effigy present within yearns to be reunited with what belongs to it, fixated upon the five items lost within the greenhouse. The swell of its longing fills all Shardbearers, urging them to take action, claim the items and present all five to it to attain victory for that Faction.
Over a period of ten days, Shardbearers of both factions will have to navigate environmental dangers, and the normal procession of time, as the greenhouse is going about its daily routine. Workers plod around like towering goliaths, weeding and watering and pruning the greenhouse's contents. The Liosachán's native population of fae begin to take notice of the newcomers in their midst, emerging from grassy mounds hidden in the natural landscape to spy and pry about the newness surrounding them.
For Shardbearers demonstrating particular selflessness, favoring the protection and defense of another, the Effigy responds warmly from the third day onward — rewarding them with a sign of their dutiful nature towards others in the form of fairy wings, the form of which are unique to the Shardbearer themselves.
DAY FOUR. The sudden thunderous sound of a storm begins. No, not a storm, the tumble and crash of water pouring down upon the greenhouse — the workers of the Liosachán perform their routines faithfully, after all. In watering the garden, the danger of the environment threatens to overtake Shardbearers and their work alike. Drops of water fall, their size equal or larger than even the tallest of characters, and trickles of water muddy the ground in the form of raging rapids.
The security of Meridian and Zenith's camps is even called into question, because as simple as the act of watering a garden is, it is a nightmarish situation for such itty bitty Bearers to be in!
DAY FIVE. By day five, the fae of the Liosachán no longer lurk and linger in the corner of one's eye. They make themselves known, having prepared a banquet below one of the mushrooms, within sight of the Effigy. A table draped in spider-silk lace awaits any Bearer who comes near enough, the sagging piece of driftwood polished to a gleam with golden sap, leaving it waterproofed and pretty to behold. A handful of corks serve as seating, with most of the fae draping themselves across scraps of cotton as though they are simply at a picnic.
They invitingly wave to Shardbearers, chattering brightly in their foreign, lilting tongue, waving tiny sandwiches and little clay pots full of jams and honeys, brandishing sugared berries that they bite into with gusto, staining their arms and faces in swathes of blue and red. They clearly are welcoming to whomever comes upon them, urging them to avail themselves to the bounty they have prepared. Perhaps some characters know better than to eat the food of the fae, recalling legends and lore about the mystical properties and implicit bargains made in becoming a guest. Perhaps some have no idea, and are simply hungry enough to dig in!
The Effigy present within yearns to be reunited with what belongs to it, fixated upon the five items lost within the greenhouse. The swell of its longing fills all Shardbearers, urging them to take action, claim the items and present all five to it to attain victory for that Faction.
Over a period of ten days, Shardbearers of both factions will have to navigate environmental dangers, and the normal procession of time, as the greenhouse is going about its daily routine. Workers plod around like towering goliaths, weeding and watering and pruning the greenhouse's contents. The Liosachán's native population of fae begin to take notice of the newcomers in their midst, emerging from grassy mounds hidden in the natural landscape to spy and pry about the newness surrounding them.
Naturally curious, and equally dangerous, the fae of the Liosachán are Highstorm natives. They range in cool coloration, from soft violet-greys to deep stormy blues, and wear clothes fashioned from of goods pilfered from the pockets of workers, dropped on the ground or handcrafted from the environment itself. Wielding bits of copper tightly wound into blades and spears, they are a ferocious and cunning little people who seek to trick, trap and toy with Shardbearers. Direct violence is anathema to them, but violence that happens as a result of falling to one of their ploys is a badge of honor.DAY ONE - THREE. The Effigy initially urges Shardbearers to build bases of operation for defense and practicality, as surviving ten days without supporting one another is a surefire way to meet a grisly, tiny little end. Resources must be gathered: gather food and water, prepare shelter, establish unity and organization and prepare to set off into the wilds soon.
For Shardbearers demonstrating particular selflessness, favoring the protection and defense of another, the Effigy responds warmly from the third day onward — rewarding them with a sign of their dutiful nature towards others in the form of fairy wings, the form of which are unique to the Shardbearer themselves.
DAY FOUR. The sudden thunderous sound of a storm begins. No, not a storm, the tumble and crash of water pouring down upon the greenhouse — the workers of the Liosachán perform their routines faithfully, after all. In watering the garden, the danger of the environment threatens to overtake Shardbearers and their work alike. Drops of water fall, their size equal or larger than even the tallest of characters, and trickles of water muddy the ground in the form of raging rapids.
The security of Meridian and Zenith's camps is even called into question, because as simple as the act of watering a garden is, it is a nightmarish situation for such itty bitty Bearers to be in!
DAY FIVE. By day five, the fae of the Liosachán no longer lurk and linger in the corner of one's eye. They make themselves known, having prepared a banquet below one of the mushrooms, within sight of the Effigy. A table draped in spider-silk lace awaits any Bearer who comes near enough, the sagging piece of driftwood polished to a gleam with golden sap, leaving it waterproofed and pretty to behold. A handful of corks serve as seating, with most of the fae draping themselves across scraps of cotton as though they are simply at a picnic.
They invitingly wave to Shardbearers, chattering brightly in their foreign, lilting tongue, waving tiny sandwiches and little clay pots full of jams and honeys, brandishing sugared berries that they bite into with gusto, staining their arms and faces in swathes of blue and red. They clearly are welcoming to whomever comes upon them, urging them to avail themselves to the bounty they have prepared. Perhaps some characters know better than to eat the food of the fae, recalling legends and lore about the mystical properties and implicit bargains made in becoming a guest. Perhaps some have no idea, and are simply hungry enough to dig in!
UNWILLING TEN-ANTS ( DAYS SIX - EIGHT )
The scuttling, scrabbling feet of ants crawling over surfaces, winding their way through this grassy playground, has become normal. Their feet thunder as they go about their business, and it seems to be a normal cadence to life here in the underbrush, in the greenhouse. It is normal, and it is has become nothing to really concern oneself with. They are ants, after all, what do they do, but work? Endlessly, continuously.
That is, until the heavy, loud sounds of their feet draw closer to whatever place that the bearers have found to camp in. Whether solitary or as a group, these workers are no longer content to simply ignore the bearers, but they are a curiosity, perhaps even a bother. You have disrupted their lifestyle. The sleepy pattern of obtain food, return ot the hive, and back out again now has obstacles. Now there are not simply the fairies, who live their own lives and existences, a part of the ecosystem, but now there are these tiny bearers. Fighting, working together, arguing and disagreeing.
You are disruptive to their way of life.
The ants have come to collect on this due, and some bearers that are vulnerable, or perhaps merely caught, are taken away, your weight so light compared to the rest of their burdens that they carry. The strength of these ants is overwhelming, incredible at this size, and try as you might, if you are caught in their strong mandibles, you cannot escape. An ant, after all, carries 1000 times their weight with those powerful jaws. You, bearer, are nothing to them.
They squirrel away the bearers within their hill, a complicated network of tunnels, junctions, and large spaces. Down within, where the air becomes stifling, and stale. The ants guard their pray, and you get the distinct sense that they see you not as people, not even as enemies, but as prey. You will be food – perhaps to the eggs that are gathered within this room, where you can see the stirring of new life, just beneath the surface. You may not have very long to live, if these little larvae get their mouths on you.
Or perhaps, your friends will save you? Once it is discovered that bearers are missing, the trail of ant prints on the ground is apparent – they are not stealthy creatures – and the feet lead from the locations of several kidnapped bearers toward the grainy ant hill that lies not far away. The hill itself swarms with life, with worker ants all over the surface, scuttling about, looking for the next meal for te colony. Or perhaps for more bearers to bring back for their young.
It will be dangerous, bearers, to save your friends. Should you choose to do so, you will be kicking the anthill, and the ants will protect what is theirs. Even if they just took it. Those bearers belong to them, now! Rescuers will find not only your average worker ant, ready to defend, but winged male ants will attack from above, and deeper, within the nest, near where the bearers are kept, lies the strongest ant in the colony: The Queen. Staggeringly large, strong, and vicious, when her subjects begin dying. She will do everything in her power to protect her colony, and that includes killing bearers, if need be. Or trying, at least.
Good luck rescuing your friends, bearers!
That is, until the heavy, loud sounds of their feet draw closer to whatever place that the bearers have found to camp in. Whether solitary or as a group, these workers are no longer content to simply ignore the bearers, but they are a curiosity, perhaps even a bother. You have disrupted their lifestyle. The sleepy pattern of obtain food, return ot the hive, and back out again now has obstacles. Now there are not simply the fairies, who live their own lives and existences, a part of the ecosystem, but now there are these tiny bearers. Fighting, working together, arguing and disagreeing.
You are disruptive to their way of life.
The ants have come to collect on this due, and some bearers that are vulnerable, or perhaps merely caught, are taken away, your weight so light compared to the rest of their burdens that they carry. The strength of these ants is overwhelming, incredible at this size, and try as you might, if you are caught in their strong mandibles, you cannot escape. An ant, after all, carries 1000 times their weight with those powerful jaws. You, bearer, are nothing to them.
They squirrel away the bearers within their hill, a complicated network of tunnels, junctions, and large spaces. Down within, where the air becomes stifling, and stale. The ants guard their pray, and you get the distinct sense that they see you not as people, not even as enemies, but as prey. You will be food – perhaps to the eggs that are gathered within this room, where you can see the stirring of new life, just beneath the surface. You may not have very long to live, if these little larvae get their mouths on you.
Or perhaps, your friends will save you? Once it is discovered that bearers are missing, the trail of ant prints on the ground is apparent – they are not stealthy creatures – and the feet lead from the locations of several kidnapped bearers toward the grainy ant hill that lies not far away. The hill itself swarms with life, with worker ants all over the surface, scuttling about, looking for the next meal for te colony. Or perhaps for more bearers to bring back for their young.
It will be dangerous, bearers, to save your friends. Should you choose to do so, you will be kicking the anthill, and the ants will protect what is theirs. Even if they just took it. Those bearers belong to them, now! Rescuers will find not only your average worker ant, ready to defend, but winged male ants will attack from above, and deeper, within the nest, near where the bearers are kept, lies the strongest ant in the colony: The Queen. Staggeringly large, strong, and vicious, when her subjects begin dying. She will do everything in her power to protect her colony, and that includes killing bearers, if need be. Or trying, at least.
Good luck rescuing your friends, bearers!
IN SMALL PACKAGES ( DAYS NINE - TEN )
The day after the ant-pocalypse brings with it the brush of recognition — the Effigy has foreseen the likely victors, and calls to them to approach it once they have suitably recovered. It judges them the ones whom are most devoted to what binds them, loyal to memory and remembrance, and begins to clamor for them to restore to it what belongs rightfully. Thus begins a full day of resting, locating last-minute items, shoring up defenses and preparing for the sprint to the finish line.
Certainly your rivals will not allow you to simply walk to the Effigy unassailed and unchallenged.
Eat, rest, ensure your fellows are close and bolstered, for tomorrow begins the final rally.
On the morning of the tenth day, Meridian Shardbearers approach the Effigy with its five items in hand. In the midst of the mushroom ring, the Effigy stands as it had in the beginning — arms outstretched and back bowed skyward, gnarled fingers seeking contact with that which has been lost to it. It awaits, it strains, and even as it does, it requires one last test of ability. From the shadows of the towering mushrooms, the rasp of scale and soft hiss of a great beast descends upon the fae ring.
A gleaming garden snake, with glossy black and green stripes, blocks the way between approaching Shardbearers and the Effigy.
Between its bright eyes, pressed upon its brow is a scattering of brighter scales that appear to be in the shape of a delicate, three-leafed plant with spiraling patterns for leaves. It braces itself against the approach, and there is no doubt that to claim victory, the serpent must be subdued. Though Meridian approaches with victory in hand, they have not yet attained it — their rival faction and this beast remain in their way.
Certainly your rivals will not allow you to simply walk to the Effigy unassailed and unchallenged.
Eat, rest, ensure your fellows are close and bolstered, for tomorrow begins the final rally.
On the morning of the tenth day, Meridian Shardbearers approach the Effigy with its five items in hand. In the midst of the mushroom ring, the Effigy stands as it had in the beginning — arms outstretched and back bowed skyward, gnarled fingers seeking contact with that which has been lost to it. It awaits, it strains, and even as it does, it requires one last test of ability. From the shadows of the towering mushrooms, the rasp of scale and soft hiss of a great beast descends upon the fae ring.
A gleaming garden snake, with glossy black and green stripes, blocks the way between approaching Shardbearers and the Effigy.
Between its bright eyes, pressed upon its brow is a scattering of brighter scales that appear to be in the shape of a delicate, three-leafed plant with spiraling patterns for leaves. It braces itself against the approach, and there is no doubt that to claim victory, the serpent must be subdued. Though Meridian approaches with victory in hand, they have not yet attained it — their rival faction and this beast remain in their way.
MISSING LINKS ( THROUGHOUT )
As the Effigy desires to be reunited with what belongs to it, the swell of its longing stirs something more within all present Shardbearers.
With that foreign longing arrives knowledge: beyond the five items prized by the Effigy itself, there are other lost things within the greenhouse. Like a compass, each Shardbearer's mind points them in direction after direction, urging them to seek and explore. Implicitly, the thrum of comprehension fills your mind: these are things that do not belong to you, per se, but seek to have your hands ferry them home.
Amidst tangled brush, hidden under doffed acorn cap, tucked away in the belly of a fae's glittering den, lost in the depths of a puddle of spilled water that seems an insurmountable lake now, folded secretly into the petals of a towering, skyscraper-like flower, there are three additional items hidden within the tumultuous landscape that each Shardbearer feels a draw towards. Things that belong to someone else, eager to be reunited with them, but subject to whim.
Upon locating and retrieving one, the Shardbearer is filled with a sense of information — they know who this item belongs to, and they will know that they have a choice. Bonds are fragile things after all, and they exist to be enforced or abused, in order to advance a goal or to deepen a connection. How will you treat someone's precious bond? How will they treat yours?
With that foreign longing arrives knowledge: beyond the five items prized by the Effigy itself, there are other lost things within the greenhouse. Like a compass, each Shardbearer's mind points them in direction after direction, urging them to seek and explore. Implicitly, the thrum of comprehension fills your mind: these are things that do not belong to you, per se, but seek to have your hands ferry them home.
Amidst tangled brush, hidden under doffed acorn cap, tucked away in the belly of a fae's glittering den, lost in the depths of a puddle of spilled water that seems an insurmountable lake now, folded secretly into the petals of a towering, skyscraper-like flower, there are three additional items hidden within the tumultuous landscape that each Shardbearer feels a draw towards. Things that belong to someone else, eager to be reunited with them, but subject to whim.
Upon locating and retrieving one, the Shardbearer is filled with a sense of information — they know who this item belongs to, and they will know that they have a choice. Bonds are fragile things after all, and they exist to be enforced or abused, in order to advance a goal or to deepen a connection. How will you treat someone's precious bond? How will they treat yours?
NOTES
Here are some prompts to set the scene and foundation of the Exalt Oracle!
— The theme of this Oracle is a loose edition of capture the flag, where the Effigy's items can pass through multiple hands within the ten day allotment.
— For additional ideas and fun, it is known that several Shardbearers have concluded their efforts to fulfill the Greenwood Yards' sidequest request.
— All details of the Exalt Oracle can be found here, and questions for the mods can be submitted here.
— For additional ideas and fun, it is known that several Shardbearers have concluded their efforts to fulfill the Greenwood Yards' sidequest request.
— All details of the Exalt Oracle can be found here, and questions for the mods can be submitted here.
no subject
Very well. I shall be discreet, as you know.
[ There’s not a sense of “if” in Sebastian’s words, because he can also smell it at this point—that pleasant scent that rolls in just before rain. But he’s also expecting it to not be that serious, or at least not right away. It’s usually a sprinkle before a downpour, so if they can just make it before the latter, then it’ll be a minor inconvenience.
But. This is Silco, ultimately, who is cursed to bad luck. Or it’s just karma. Either way… It’s not close to them, but a leaf suddenly bows from the weight of a water droplet as the first little rain starts. It also gives a much better sense of what they’re about to deal with. They’re bigger than the drop, at least… But it would still be waist deep water at their size. And that’s just one. ]
no subject
A hand clenches, and he took stock of it. It was large. One damned drop of rain was enough to probably submerge himself in if he sat down, or even worse — he could drown easily in that.
It's not an unavoidable fear, and Silc would not call it any sort of stress response, but he remembers it even so. He can remember it as clear as if it were yesterday. Thick hands on his neck, the bile and water mixing in the back of his throat, the taste of pollution, sickly sweet and rancid, in the water. He remembered trying to breathe in to no success, and then lashing outward, fighting with every scrap of energy and determination he could possibly hold.
He does not flash back, but his steps falter, and he swallowed, before — ]
We need to go.
[ That is the closest to accepting help, as Silco likely will get.
Until Liem drains his blood. ]
me like hm how do i get sebastian away so silco can drown a little
[ Sebastian notices Silco’s step falter, and though he has no context for it, that hardly matters. If Silco isn’t going to be able to make the dash effectively, then he’ll have to take over. It’s as simple as that, and where the hesitation came from is something that he can personally mull over later.
So, with a nod, he takes Silco’s words as acceptance. He turns and starts to extend a hand so that he can at least offer Silco as much dignity as possible before scooping him up. Thus, naturally, he must lose his own in the process.
It’s really just comical coincidence, and in retrospect, Sebastian will be deeply grateful that no one but Silco had to see what he would consider a deeply embarrassing sight… But above their heads as a tree catches the first rain, those little rain drops gather together into much bigger ones. As Sebastian extends his hand to his master, a much bigger drop falls—
And absolutely engulfs Sebastian.
It’s a big, heavy droplet, much bigger than the one they had just seen, so the tension of the water and gravity win the quick fight as Sebastian is suddenly floating within the droplet and whisked away down the slight incline. He of course immediately struggles to get out, but it’s a bit like being suddenly tossed into a whirlpool.
So. You’re on your own, Silco. You can surely make the rest of that run, right? ]
cw: drowning and Normal Silco Things
Silco, after that, takes escaping a log more seriously, and he does start to run now — actually run — but it does him little good. Those heavy droplets are starting to fall harder and harder, and anytime one gathers on a leaf high above, before it slowly tumbled down to earth, creating a minefield before him, and it wasn't too many steps, before Silco's swept up himself in one.
It crashed overhead with an audible plop!, and the rush of spreading water gathered him into a chill embrace faster than he even had time to yell about it.
It's cold, and not simply because it's Highstorm, which is often cold. It's cold, and Silco barely was able to take a breath before it took him under, and he struggled in the water, fighting — trying to get to the surface, but the water is so tumultuous, and he is so small, that he only managed to dig himself in deeper.
His fingers aren't searching for a way out, bu they clasp at his neck, an automatic reaction — almost like he's dreamed of this day over and over, and over again — and his feet kick wildly.
He inhaled cold water and his nose stings, one eye fights to stay closed, while one — burning and angry red — swings wildly in a panic.
But it's cold, and he almost, very nearly wants to let go.
Now? When there's so little left? His fingers fight at his neck, but for the briefest of moments, he wonders what it would be to just stop fighting. ]
so mentally healthy <3
His human form was ultimately just a disguise, and thus, much about it wasn’t necessary, including breathing. His body was a real, physical thing, but a demon needed far less—including air, as it turned out. So, the moment he’s swept into the water and takes the first, involuntary breath of water, he simply chooses to stop. He doesn’t need to take another breath, another heartbeat. He just watches as the momentum of the water takes him away from Silco, and he reaches out to try and find something he can latch onto, but there’s nothing in the water.
But in that, he feels Silco’s distress. It’s technically something he can always feel, and this is far from the first time. Silco had a knack for getting himself into trouble, after all. Were this a normal world with normal rules pertaining to death, Sebastian would have been there every time. He would have ripped into whatever caused that deathly distress viciously, torn it limb from limb rather than dare lose his coveted meal. Here, though? He could let it slide. What better to create the flavor he wanted than Silco’s deeply held grudges?
—Which is not something that can be held against water, really. Or, so he assumes.
He can feel as Silco struggles and rages, and Sebastian still tries to claw his way out. But as Silco starts to give up… Sebastian’s expression twists into a snarl. That will not do.
Sebastian hates when he has to slip away from something human because of the appearance of it, but it’s necessary in this case. His human form can’t find a grip in the water, but as he abandons it to become little more than shadow, it doesn’t need it. Like oil in the water, he separates from it as it spills onto the ground. The shadow darts up the incline as quickly as it can, and then slips into the droplet that contains Silco just as easily.
It's not a pleasant feeling for Silco, especially in this situation. Something grabs him. Tightens around him like a snake, but with none of the weight of something real, something physical. It’s something rough and haphazard, because it’s the only way Sebastian can grab him before essentially throwing both of them out and onto the ground.
Sebastian reforms enough as Silco comes to, but it’s still somewhere in between. His bright red eyes, those inhuman teeth in his mouth, those are normal enough. They look down at Silco with worry. ]
Master?!
[ But he doesn’t reform fully, even so. Silco can see it first, how a drop descends towards both of them and threatens to engulf them again. But a shadow spears out from Sebastian and punctures it with a severity that shows another hidden trick up his sleeve. Water rains down on them both, but he at least ignores it. ]
no subject
He would not, could not admit this thought, so it would be easier later, to admit it had only been momentary, and brief, should Sebastian ask.
As soon as something... something odd grabbed him, and tugged him upward, he thrashed, almost out of instinct, but it doesn't matter, he can't fight it, because it's so... different. Hard, oily, firm, and liquid all at once. He hates the way it feels, and struggles to try and rip it off, but he can't breathe and there are no knives to tug at to release him.
He's only left with struggling futilely, until they breach the surface of the water, until Silco gasps, and expels water from his lungs. When he is released, on all fours on the surface of the ground, he coughs more water, before he tipped his head, one eye closed, the other burning and vision blurry from the water, to look up at who (or what) saved him.
It's the voice more than the sight of him. He may not be fully human, but Silco's vision is blurry enough from the water in his blackened eye that he barely can tell — at first.
It slowly comes into focus, and though the sound of water against Sebastian's shadows almost forced him to flinch, he grimaced and dug his fingers into the ground. Angry. ]
Sebastian. [ His voice is rough, and strained. ] I find it insulting that we could struggle against water.
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Of course, that feeling of relief is short-lived when Silco responds… As expected, he supposes. His mouth twists into a little frown, because he distinctly feels like he’s being scolded. That’s a new one from Silco. ]
…It was merely unexpected. My apologies.
[ But even so, he reaches out to grab Silco’s hand and help him back to his feet. They’re hardly out of danger yet, but he’ll take the quicker method without question this time. ]
Come. We’ll go quickly.
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Sevika, though, was more loyal than Sebastian would ever be -- but far be it from him to apologize for the barbed tone or annoyance.
Silco returned to the water on his own terms. He saw it as something to master, control. Like fear, or like monsters. Something to control and wield. The fact that it would not allow him to infuriated him. Angered him beyond anything else. That he would be shocked into confronting old memories like that certainly left him struggling.
He nodded to Sebastian, accepting the faster method even as he returned to his feet. ]
Please.
[ He ran a hand through his hair, to slide it back into place, as if the sharp shock of discord and powerlessness was so easily tucked away neatly. ]
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But it is efficient. As soon as he has a comfortable grip on Silco, he simply turns, and with a burst of speed that’s unnatural and impossible, they’re off. It’s another display of the kind of power that Sebastian has at his disposal as simply as breathing. It’ll be hard for Silco to perceive the scenery around them as anything but a colorful blur, but it’s at least short. Just as quickly as Sebastian had rocketed off, they come to a smooth stop as his heels skid into the dirt as brakes, and they’re now safely under the canopy that will keep the water away. He’s also quick to duck to let Silco stand back on his own. ]
Here. This should be a safe spot until the rain passes.
[ …But as deferential as Sebastian is being, this event does not go without notice. The anger and the sharpness itself wasn’t unusual from his master, but the degree of it in this case was unexpected. It’s an anger that he knows is deeper, because he’s seen it before, even though he couldn’t guess its meaning now.
He glances out from under their safe spot to look at the rain, and though his expression doesn’t change, he’s curious. A few of Silco’s words in the past come to him, because Sebastian’s intense clarity of mind is just as much a weapon as anything else about him. And, just barely, his lips curve a little bit as he fits the pieces together. It’s not with any specifics, of course. But it doesn’t need to be.
It’s just good to know what his master feared. ]
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Silco controlled his fear, just like he controlled everything else. It was power, to have a weakness, and master it. To put himself into the water willingly, and let it rush over him, allow himself to feel that again, and know that he would not fall victim to it. To be shocked by it was another thing entirely.
His jaw worked, tight, and with barely contained anger, when he looked out on the droplets falling from the sky, anger seething, shimmering beneath the surface. This realm — it continued to test him in every way. He did not know if he could hate it more than he already did, and yet...
And yet... it felt like too often, he was falling. Forced to struggle over and over, and over.
His fist clenched, his jaw clenched, and finally, he nodded.
At least for now, this would not do him in, oblivious as he was, to Sebastian's revelation. ]