NOVEMBER EVENT | THE HARBINGER ORACLE

[beleos]

HEDGING YOUR BETS

Bearers feel it. Similar to when the Scorching Isles was opened, there is the same tug, from somewhere in the distance. Those who are in springstar feel it from closer, like a blossom of warmth in your heart, you feel the Oracle spring to life. Those in Highstorm feel it too, but distant. Far away. You remember Cyrus’s words, that it would come to life in Springstar, and you know, just from the relative distance, from how far away it feels – He was probably right.

So bearers must make their way to the center of Springstar’s residential district. Finding one’s way to Springstar will be difficult, in fact. Preparations have been underway since Cyrus’s announcement, and Springstar leaps into action. The Legionnaires are already marching by the time the first bearers start moving throughout the city. In addition to any of Meridian’s own preparations, the Legionnaires establish choke points and start organizing evacuations. It will be difficult to make your way through Springstar, but the closer bearers make it to the hedge maze, and what seems to be the oracle at the center, the warmer their chests feel. Throughout the city, it feels warm, like small wicks of heat. The closer bearers become, the more it feels like a torrent. It is burning them to their center and igniting them to their cores. Like the fire of drive, is what it feels like. Like the hunger for something more than just food, or anything else, like the anticipation of victory.

The maze itself is where it is the most intense as bearers start to make their way through the hedge maze. Vines and brambles lie within a neat hedge, and it looks like it is safe to jump, or scale, but the moment a bearer tries to jump it, cut through it, or even go beneath it, roots, brambles, and vines lash out to entrap bearers, and start to drag them down and into the hedges. You will have to figure out a way out – lest you be stuck for seemingly the near future.

Of course, when Dimitri’s hand touches the stone statue in the middle, it all goes dark, and wherever you were, whoever you were fighting –

Every bearer collapses at the same time.

YOU'D BETTER BE A-MAZE-ING!

In the dark, there is that fiery impression of the Harbinger. Competition, drive, disdain for even those that best them. It is clear, in the dark, with your eyes closed, that the Harbinger does not see the Bearers as worthy to obtain it. You feel ghostly hands on your mind, into you, as if it is delving for more, trying to pluck and pull out the right memory. It looks for victories, triumphs, defeats, or betrayals. Something that shows the mettle of the bearer, what it is looking for. When it finds what it is looking for – or is this just a dream? – after the bearer experiences the dream, they will get the distinct impression that it is not enough. That the Harbinger wants more. It wants to see what this bearer can do. It wants to see you rise to the challenge, bearer! Will you do as it wishes, and show it the scope of your mettle, or will you capitulate and let the Harbinger know that it was right – you aren’t enough?

The Harbinger wants you to prove them wrong. Can you do that? Will you use spite to convince it that it is wrong? The Harbinger at the center of this labyrinth imparts to bearers, that it will not allow the weak to succeed, that nobody who cannot reach it, would ever be able to protect them. They look down on bearers, and it is up to you, to convince them that you are worth their attention.

When bearers wake, they will be stuck in a foyer. The walls seem blank, and there is a door, leading further into the maze. It is not… fully dark, everything here seems to be lit just enough to move around without trouble, but it is not bright. Bearers can look left, and right, and see others beside them. They are not alone, but nor are they with others of their faction. No, you can feel it, between all of you, gathered here in one space. The humming of your shared aspect fills the room, as if all of you together in one space feels right.

You will not be able to stay. The foyer lasts only until the last person leaves, and if any try to stay behind and stationary, they will find that eventually a door appears, and the room begins to shrink. You had better get moving!

You must move further into the maze. You will find that grouping up for long periods of time becomes impossible, and moving from one door to the next can find foes, allies, or even neutral parties. Every door you open within this maze, leads to new and unusual locations. You may both walk in, from opposite ends, only to find that the doors are gone when you turn your back. Do you end up on a precarious path over spikes, lava, or even water? Do you walk into a room with your greatest desire, a hunger that can now never be sated? Will you do anything to find your way through the corridors? Will bearers help each other, and resist the call of the Harbinger, or will you push over even your treasured ones to win?

MADE IN THE SHADE

And even further in, as you start to catch sight of them, patches of darkness seep into the corners, into everything. They may be hidden, at first. They may lurk underneath patches of leaves, or in shadowed corners. But the longer bearers are within this labyrinth, the longer the shadows seem. They start to reach out, to pull bearers into their shadowy depths. You may feel malaise, or an unwillingness to continue, once you first step within these patches. The longer you are there, the harder it is to get out. You will need help from your friends or dear ones, or sheer strength of will – but can you fight on, as you start to lose the things that motivate you?

And then there are the visions. People you know, love, or trust, they round corners, just ahead. They seem just out of range, and at first, it is difficult to tell if they are there or not. But they happen to reappear, and then disappear around a corner. Try and chase them, if you dare. When your fingers touch their arm, or grab their clothing, or heaven forbid, if you pull them into a hug – it seems impossible to pull away. They were treasured, weren’t they? There is a reason they appear here, to you. Why would you want to pull them away? Why would you –

They reach out, their fingers seem long, as they reach toward your shard – they will not be deterred by clothing or armor, their fingers seem to bend and twist around the junctions – before they find purchase on your shard. They rip it from you, and it feels like you are being separated from something. It’s painful, it hurts, but the last thing you see, as they hold your shard in your hand, is someone you care very deeply for, placing the shard in the same place on their own body, and your own face smiles back at you, and it all goes black. You are gone. Into… nothing.

NOTES

Here are some prompts to set the scene and foundation of the Exalt Oracle! Please refer to the ooc post for more details about what’s happening in the labyrinth! Feel free to direct questions here.

If your character gets killed by a shadow-copy, please let us know in the reporting post that goes up on November 20th if they touch the effigy. If they do not, please let us know on the deaths page! Don't forget to report any dissipations as a whole! Please also let us know if your character is saved by another bearer, or if your character’s shard is taken by the shadow copy for the entire duration of the event. This will not result in any permadeath, but you might get some cool lore! Teehee! If your character defeats a shadow creature, please let us know [HERE]

Comments

h-hunger room...? 😳

[damnpire]

[is this a good time to (yuul voice) suck gen off?

It's true Gen is acting bizarre from the moment D steps into the room. He doesn't think Gen has ever given him an expression quite like that before. (Gen can actually be a normal teenager...?)

Curious, D walks slowly up behind Gen to get a look over one of Gen's shoulders at the crystal casting a hypnotic glow over Gen's face. Hmm. Something has bewitched the other boy, and D gives the entire room a once-over. Again, his eyes return to Gen.

The sound of Gen's desperate stomach is loud in D's ears. He wonders how long Gen has been here, sitting in front of this crystal screen? So far (for now), nothing has tried strangling D's own spirit...]

Gen.

[Might as well see if Gen will respond to verbal stimuli first.]

[epiprocta]

[ well it is the room of hunger, so D might as well get a nice little bite to eat while he's at it, right 😳

Anyway -- the answer is yes. Gen does respond to verbal stimuli. ... sort of. ]

Mmn? [ It's just a vague, almost drowsy noise that Gen gives in response, not even looking up from the crystal's surface this time. In fact, he only leans closer into it, forehead touching against its glowing surface as if he's gazing upon something he can't bear to tear his eyes away from. ] What is it.

[ He's clearly only half-paying attention, if that. D's presence is practically just a footnote in his mind at the moment.

Although if D decides to inch around to try and take a better look at what dangerous force is keeping Gen arrested there ... it's nothing, it seems? At least, D probably won't feel any effect even if he manages to catch a clear glimpse of the crystal's surface. There's no cursed picture, no supernatural force, no creepy videotape with a stringy-haired girl as its focus. Just a glimpse of two young boys playing innocently; their voices don't project loud enough for D to be able to make out what they're saying, but they sound happy. ]

[damnpire]

[Okay, the response is at least reassuring. Gen isn't so far immersed he can't recognize being called. His eyes shift from Gen to the crystal's surface again.

It's sad? It's sad. It's sad in the way these are two happy boys who may never get to play with each other again (who would not be playing with each other actually). This must be the shard Gen has, D thinks. Just based on snippets of conversations from different people, from the mess that happened between him and Liem. This must be the boy.

Slowly, his eyes drift back to Gen, but instead of watching Gen, he ends up idly watching the slope of Gen's jaw as it curves into the neck. A bizarre feeling begins wriggling its way into the back of his mind, and the realization this is happening is fuzzy under the haze of need.]

Do you miss him?

[The sharp edge of pointed teeth brush against his lips and tongue, ones which hadn't been there before. He can't figure out why it seems so wrong for this to happen.

It's the room, D, a gnarled voice says desperately in his mind. D?]

[epiprocta]

[ That gets Gen to look up.

His focus is still shot, though; his gaze is barely focused on D, and his eyelids seem terribly heavy when he blinks. After a pause, he swallows heavily -- the bob of his Adam's apple is visible just past the high neck of his shirt, that little flicker of movement perhaps drawing D's gaze to his throat. ]

That's not it.

[ His answer is mumbled quietly, almost hesitant. Does he miss Reiji? Yes, desperately -- but only in a fashion. It's not that he wants to see Reiji again as he last saw him. He doesn't miss the Reiji he last remembers, the Reiji who hates him at best and doesn't give a shit about him at worst. What he wants, what this room is granting him is -- ]

... I just want to go back. To back then.

[ His words peter off with a sigh as he sags forth against the crystal's surface once more, close enough that every noise and every word emanating from it seeps through his skin. It's almost as good as being back there again. And if the cant of his head as he nuzzles his temple against that warm surface bares his throat just a little more to D's hungry gaze, then he can't bring himself to care. Everything's fine so long as he can stay here just a little longer. ]

[damnpire]

[The edges of D's eyes have turned into those familiar red embers when Gen looks up again. Luckily, they don't have the same sort of hypnotic pull they had before. Not yet. They just sit like burning carnelian gems below the hat, watching Gen's face as it's turned back against the crystal glass.

In the fog of growing hunger, D understands Gen longs for a time now lost and less for a person now lost with it. These are memories and times afforded to a lot of humans. Things not afforded to D.

The memories are important.]

You have to live for the future, Gen. [D pulls the hat from his head and kneels over Gen's thighs and knees in the pillows.] Don't you want to go back? [He reaches out, slipping a hand under Gen's real arm and slowly turning Gen over so Gen can look at him.] To try again, knowing what you know now. To show him a changed man.

[A red haze has alighted around D, and shadows have encroached toward them from the corners of the room. The eyes look through Gen right down to the center, cradling what feels similar to his Shard, warm and sweet.]

You can if we bring every world back.

[D's ears are deafened and ringing with the sound of Gen's blood, blocking out the parasite's voice. If he has blood, he can be strong enough to win the effigy for Meridian. If he takes blood, he can draw Gen out of the reverie even if it means tossing him into another.

He leans in and lowers his face under Gen's jaw, resting his lips on the flesh of Gen's neck. His body settles over Gen's, pinning Gen against the crystal glass of the two young boys playing together in a room. And then D sinks his fangs in with no preamble. For Gen, there is only the start of a pinch, and then nothing but the deliciously fiery heat of arousal blooming from his thighs up through his chest. He's somehow skipped all of the foreplay and the lead-up, left to bask instead in the sensation of quivering afterglow. The kind of exhaustion craved; the one which feels like tasting death without dying.

A woman's beautiful face has appeared in the crystal, turned slightly away and down, shrouded by long rivers of dark hair. Several drops of Gen's blood trickles down over her tender smile. I love you both no matter what, she says in a familiarly soft voice, barely heard.

And then the two boys are once more together in the room enjoying each other's company.]

[epiprocta]

[ It'll take a little physical force on D's end to tear Gen's focus away from the crystal's glowing surface. Even with D's weight practically looming over him and that crimson stare boring into him, Gen only has eyes for the pale, pretty-faced boy shows in the crystal's surface.

Though -- maybe D can feel it, the way his muscles pull just a little more taut at the mention of having to live for the future. Then a little more, at the prospect of having to 'try again'. Gen flinches at that threat of having his world brought back, trying harder to turn back towards the crystal, to sink back into the comforting quagmire of old memories. Like it or not, the reminder of his reality -- that those days where he'd allowed himself to feel truly happy sometimes are long dead and gone -- starts pulling him from his little reverie.

Then the bite to his throat yanks him most of the rest of the way there.

The pleasure that instantly blooms through his nerves and thunders down his spine is enough to earn a full-body jolt and a breathless noise. Even with his face buried against Gen's throat, D must be able to tell that Gen is certainly feeling it. His throat works hard beneath the clench of D's jaw, shifting with each little 'nnf' that's stifled past a bit lip, and his pulse throbs fast, blood coursing thick and rich through his veins. Gen might harbor a vicious nicotine addiction and constantly neglect taking care of himself, but he's still a teenager at the peak of youth; the blood that spills from his throat paints lurid stripes of that signature, copper tang over D's tongue, almost unctuous with vitality.

It's not a bad deal that D's offering him, giving him the chance to slip from one pleasurable haze to another. The tiny pinprick of pain that comes from D's fangs sinking deeper into his throat only enhances the searing, shivering sensation that's starting to build up in the pit of his stomach, and Gen gives a shuddering exhale as he sags against D's body. Better tucking his throat into the cup of D's mouth, encouraging that bite to go deeper.

He's always been weak to pleasure, after all, seeking any sort of carnal distraction that might drive away his own thoughts. And for a moment, it looks like he's about to commit himself fully to that hedonistic indulgence -- hands groping upwards so he can tangle one into the folds of D's clothes, the other into the silky cascade of his hair. 'More,' it looks like he's about to whisper. 'Give me more.' ]

-- wait.

[ There's a disconnect between his words and his actions, that breathless, bleary mumble of his in sharp contrast to the way he tugs at that handful of D's hair. ]

Not here. Not -- in front of him.

[damnpire]

[The resistance against him makes D instinctively bear down a little until coherency swims through the fog of his mind. Quickly, the forcefulness dissipates, and though D stops drinking, he doesn't pull away.

The long fingers of one hand swoop along the dip in Gen's lower back, and his other hand joins farther up the spine. He tugs Gen over the crystal screen and off the side, away from the two innocently playing boys. The mountain of pillows greet Gen from behind, swallow him up, and D's weight returns above.

Pleasure teeters back and forth through Gen lazily. The shadows are arching up through the cracks of the pillows like liquid, dripping toward the ceiling above.

It doesn't feel like Gen closes his eyes at all, but it comes on all the same: Gen's eyes struggle to open, and when they do, they are flooded suddenly by a thinly viscous substance which stings for a moment. He's neither warm nor cold; in fact, he isn't sure at first whether he's alive or dead because it feels as if he's floating in a void. The lack of sensation makes him hyper-aware of his own mind. Does he exist at all when he has no outside point of reference?

And then through the blur of his vision, he can see his body, nude and ghastly pale. And young? The toiling mind in him feels hundreds of years old, but the body is prepubescent. Through the liquid, his hands touch a smooth and slick surface in front of him--glass. It's glass, and he realizes suddenly he's suspended inside of a cylindrical chamber with nothing except the black mask of oxygen over the bottom half of his face.

He kicks his feet and moves closer to the dividing edge. Outside, he can see a dark swath of an imposing figure below on the metal landing. A tall silhouette of black and red, a pale face which is already looking at Gen with two burning scarlet eyes. Seeing them puts a bizarre warm, but terrifying fear so far down in Gen's stomach it's almost in the groin. A primal, tantalizing grip of power. And then the dark head turns away, looking across to the other side. Gen follows the gaze.

An identical chamber is there, and Gen can make out the general idea of the advance mechanical workings of it as a whole through the blurry vision. A chamber full of liquid, and someone else. A prepubescent boy, pale and nude with shorn dark hair, face strapped with a black mask of oxygen. He is thrashing wildly, kicking legs and jerking arms, slamming into the glass on whatever side meets him. The conditioning means Gen is aware it's pain. It's always pain. Gen can almost feel it, whatever it might be: crawling skin, a rip from within, boiling insides. Will it happen to him next? Has it already happened? Or is he the safe one this time? The control variable.

Gen's eyes suddenly focus on the reflection in the glass in front of him. A hollow-cheeked prepubescent boy with dark, shorn hair and familiar rust-colored eyes.

Again, Gen opens his eyes, but this time he's resting on the pliant material of many pillows. Someone is knelt over him. The shadowy and imposing figure with flames for eyes, always watching. Then on second glance, it's D, studying Gen's face with two slowly fading embers.]

Are you awake?

[epiprocta]

[ The resistance fades as soon as they step away from that crystal and he can't see the gently-lit image of Reiji's face any more. Gen sighs, relieved, as he tugs at D's hair and clothes once more -- this time urging him to resume. It had felt nice, after all. It's just that he refuses to pollute those few innocently happy memories of his with anything so lurid; he's already done too much to sully them, and he can't afford to dirty them any more.

The creeping chill of his blood draining from his veins, the plush give of the pillows beneath him, and the warm embrace of those encroaching shadows. Those sensations all mingled together into a dense, heavy blanket that envelops him like a cocoon. Gen closes his eyes, vaguely hoping that this goes on forever. This wouldn't be a bad way to go.

-- then he wakes up.

Waking up without any memory of deliberately going to sleep is a fabulously disorienting sensation, and Gen needs a hot second to even stabilize his wobbling field of vision. There's someone looming over him? Close, way too close. The fact that whatever it is smells nice (?) does nothing to mitigate the discombobulated alarm working its way through his brain, and Gen groans as he tries to scoot back and give himself some breathing room.

His mouth feels dry, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. (Turns out getting a sippy of blood drained while already hungry and exhausted doesn't do wonders for your hydration levels.) His first attempt to speak emerges as an indistinct, hoarse noise; it takes him a haggard clear of the throat and a second attempt to form words: ]

... the tank. [ 'The tank?' He'd said it without thinking. Gen blinks, bleary and confused, as his mind churns, quick as mud. Blinks again as his field of vision finally starts to clear. The two weird, red spots looming somewhere above him sharpen and gain some clarity as he mumbles, ] The ... tank. With the mask. ... and the other one. There was another one. Person.

[ -- oh. That's what those two red spots were. It's D's eyes, because the fucker's leaning right over him. Gen makes a face, brow knitting together, as he slowly starts to realize the position he's in. Vaguely, he thinks he should probably sit up and scoot out of the way, because he's not sure how he feels about lounging across something soft with a pretty boy staring down at him. (His stomach still flutters with a weirdly heated, itchy sensation? He's going to ignore it.) But his body still feels heavy, a faint headache throbbing through his temples, so he instead finds himself muttering, ]

I thought you were a vampire. Why're you -- [ a hard blink, eyes squeezed shut for a moment ] -- what was that sci-fi bullshit. What're you, a clone?

[ Why is nobody here normal. He hates it here. ]

[damnpire]

[Gen slides back, and D remains where he is on one knee, arm resting over the opposite raised one. He is watching Gen not unlike the imposing figure on the landing had been. Something studious, something hungry for the science of it, only his is a bit more altruistic. He's trying to make sure Gen will be okay.

It does confirm one thing: he also can exchange memories with those he bites, like Nobles. Eustace had done the same after being bitten. D is surprised they have been pulled from that far back, out of so many years of being alive.]

I'm a dhampir, the product of a vampire and a human coupling.

[The correction isn't angry, or offended, only clinical.]

It was a laboratory. [The only one he was ever in unwillingly; even without seeing what Gen saw, he knows what it was. He remembers.] It belonged to the First vampire, the one who was trying to create a perfect being. Something with all of the strengths of a vampire and none of the weaknesses.

[He doesn't not answer anything else right away, debating. The least people know about him the better, especially Gen, especially a Zenith. The only advantage is now they are intristically connected until D dies.]

The other person was my twin.

[Of course there are TWO of him. Of course. Gen would probably like that D a whole lot better actually. Cunning, prideful, mouthy, someone who believed in the power of the Nobles and not the hearts of humanity.]

We shouldn't stay in this room. Can you sit up? Slowly.

[Something else is strange, not just the memory bestowed upon Gen... D feels closer, as if Gen could step up to D and be assimilated right inside D's whole body. Gen can feel D's presence humming pleasantly near, the thick of it balled up somewhere through D's legs, low. Weird.]

[epiprocta]

... there's two of you.

[ Is it at all surprising that Gen is the exact sort of shitty youth who would voice that sentiment out loud. (No.) It's said with a furrowed brow and narrowed eyes, lips curled in an unsubtle sign of disgust, although ... for some reason it's a struggle to muster any real disgust as he says those words? There's an odd sensation that's lingering in his veins, making his thoughts towards D specifically feel a little fuzzy, and he's pretty sure it's not just the familiar light-headedness that comes from losing a helping of blood.

It's a sensation that feels a little more ... intimate than that. A sensation that prickles at his nerves, leaving a foreign heat simmering just beneath the surface of his skin. Gen consciously suppresses the vague observation that it feels a bit like the afterglow of sex, the uncanny feeling that comes after a physical coupling; he's not ready to start thinking about D in those terms for a variety of different reasons.

So maybe he's grateful for that gentle advice D offers. Less because he takes the advice, and more because it reminds him of where they are, which serves as a great distraction. ]

-- Reiji.

[ Gen sits up. Quickly, of course, going exactly against what D had said. Quickly enough, in fact, that he promptly buckles as his field of vision goes white, his body still adjusting to losing some blood; he ends up awkwardly propping himself up on one arm, the other snagging blindly into the folds of D's clothes in search of purchase. But even before he's finished blinking the static out of his vision, Gen tries to push past D. He'll crawl if he has to. ]

Do what you want. I'm not leaving.

[damnpire]

[There are two of him much to Gen's dismay. A duplicate of one of the most annoy fuckers to grace Gen's vicinity.

D is not surprised by the outcome of Gen sitting up too quickly. Dehydration and blood loss is not a good mixture, and though he was the one who became consumed enough to drink from Gen, he is now a bit worried Gen is toeing the line of emergency.

His hand shoots out and catches Gen by the upper arm; the grip is not painful, but there is a firmness there belying the idea he could probably crush Gen's bones beneath his fingers. Gen doesn't get jerked back. He waits for Gen to look at him, keeping Gen from moving forward.

The sensation from the beach long ago returns, except D's eyes are not glowing bright red.] Do as I say. [His voice is deep, a drawl that fills Gen with this bizarre urge to obey.]

Meridian will win the Oracle again if you sit in this room pining for days gone by. You will be exactly like the woman I was investigating before I came here: stuck in a dream for thirty years, likely long since dead, wishing for days she couldn't have back.

[Gen's arm is still in his grasp when he slowly tries drawing himself to his feet, bent to accommodate the hold.]

Stand up, Gen. Say goodbye to this Reiji; you already have the real one unless Yima has placated you with a forgery. Stand, or I will make you.

[epiprocta]

[ D's probably heard from Liem that Gen doesn't seem to comprehend reason once that precious shard of his comes into play. And now he's about to get a live demonstration of it.

He'd been slow to even look over at first, straining mindlessly at the grip at his arm like a man trapped in a desert, too addled by thirst to realize he's been reaching for a mirage. But his entire body ratchets taut when he hears the name uttered in D's voice. And almost before that last word's even left D's lips, he jerks around with all the quickfire anger of a wild animal. Gen's free hand grabs at the front of D's clothes, fisting into his shirtfront so taut that he must be able to feel the collar straining at the back of his neck, and Gen leans in so he can snarl as directly into D's face as he can: ]

Don't go talking like you know anything.

[ Gone is the static-y fog that had been clouding his gaze; his eyes are bright with anger as he bares his teeth as D. ]

-- you think I'm fucking stupid? I know I can't go back! I know that! [ That grip on D's clothes tightens further, nails digging in until threads start to fray; Gen's so close that D must be able to feel those furious, huffed breaths against his skin. ] He's real and he's mine! But this place ... it's only here that I can --

[ That thundering tirade of his finally pauses. Not because he's run out of breath or anger, but because Gen realizes that, even as he'd been running his mouth, his body had obediently listened to D's demand. Stand, D had told him, and so now here he is, obediently on his feet. It takes a moment longer for the realization to fully sink in, Gen's furious gaze flickering from D's face, down to his own to feet, then back. The vector of his anger's changed from that mindless, explosive fury to something warier and colder when he growls, ]

-- the hell did you do to me?

[damnpire]

[Oh yeah, this guy is definitely a little unwell about his friend.

By now, D is actually quite accustom to Gen diving straight into being a mouthy, angry delinquent with him. And with Liem's account of how things went with what happened between them, none of this is at all surprising in regards to Reiji.

It's probably equally as frustrating to have a beautiful young man the same age not balk or flinch under a feisty grab or a face full of bark. But that's okay. He's got Gen's number now (even if this is a part of his heritage he despises with ever ounce of his being).

They are standing, and the hand holding Gen's arm releases, draws away. He looks Gen in the face without wavering, no shame, or guilt, only a rigid and dutiful sort of grim acceptance.]

This room has been toying with us. [The last remnants of those long fangs have become merely sharply pointed canines behind D's wide lips.] It caused me to be susceptible to influence, and I drank some of your blood. The bite of Frontier vampires are probably not like any of the bites of vampires here. I've become the sire, and now we are intrinsically connected. It doesn't seem like you're a mindless thrall. If you don't turn, we will simply remain this way.

I'm impressed you're still alive.

[Because he is strong enough, thanks to his DNA, thanks to what Gen has now experienced first-hand, to drain the life right out of someone like Gen.]

[epiprocta]

[ What the hell is this guy even talking about. What's a frontier vampire? What makes them different from the other vampires? What's a sire? A thrall?

Even if they weren't standing basically nose-to-nose thanks to Gen's hand fisting into D's clothes so hard the material creaks, D would be able to feel the frustration rolling off of Gen in waves. The very air around them feels prickly with his barely-contained anger, charged with a faint electric tension, and there's the audible grit of teeth as Gen clenches his jaw. Whatever confusion and concern he feels over whatever D's done to him is currently completely buried under a suffocating level of anger, and that anger translates directly to spite, to cruelty, to the desire to cause harm.

In the way that so many teengers do, Gen reaches for the most hateful thing he can think to say -- what he'd guess would hurt D where it counts. ]

Sounds like that old fuck was right to stick you in a glass tube like some guinea pig, you freak.

[ Is that actually true? Is D actually so different as to have deserved that pain that he viscerally felt in that dream? -- no, probably not. But also, Gen can't bring himself to care right now. All he knows is that D is keeping him from the only chance he'll ever have to relive those old memories of his, the only times he'd ever been unquestionably happy, and he hates him for it.

His teeth are bared in an open snarl when he leans in just a little closer to hiss, ]

Should've just drank me dry like I know you want to, instead of this stupid noble act where you pretend to be better than you actually are.

[damnpire]

[It's okay. Gen will learn what those words mean in time now that he is forced to be linked with D.

The irritation and frustration washes up over D and back behind him; he truly is a sentinel stone in Gen's stormy ocean. The first part doesn't bother him. He is a freak, he knows he is a freak. He knows he's a monster. He's been called so many bad things for so long by fearful and prejudiced humans that this doesn't budge him in the slightest.

But the last part... The last part is what stings a little. Because it's true. Because he has tried hard for a very long time to not be like the vampires he hunts. He's tried to be kind to humans, to leave them alone, to protect them even. And now, here, he's been stripped to a baser level of survival. The tools he had before have been taken from him.

And he has become not very different than the vampires who once disgusted him.

The line of his jaw sets, thinning out his lips sourly. He stares into Gen's face unabashedly, but it's in his eyes, the accepting of that truth. Something turning them sadder, weighted with regret. There isn't really anything he can say against it, so he says nothing. Surprisingly, he looks away by lowering his eyes under his lashes briefly before meeting Gen's eyes once more.

Then he starts pressing forward, pushing his bulk against Gen's front and continuing, forcing Gen to have to step back and keep stepping back.]

Do as I say, and leave this room.

[epiprocta]

[ Like any good bully, Gen is well-versed in looking for signs of hurt, signs that he's hit his mark. So D can keep that shitty, stony expression all he wants -- Gen doesn't miss the way his gaze dips away in a familiar, wordless sign of defeat. Even without the sympathtic little prickle of something he feels at the back of his mind -- emotional feedback from D, though he refuses to acknowledge it as such at the moment -- he'd know that he's hit a sore spot.

Strange, then, how an odd little stab of guilt lances through his chest. (Maybe D can feel it too, just sharp enough to cut through the heavy, muddy waves of anger that Gen otherwise seems to constantly exude.) Gen tries to ignore it, but there's a notable little pause where he permits himself to be crowded back one step, two steps without resistance, whatever other shitty barb he could have thrown caught on the tip of his tongue.

He doesn't end up saying it, in the end. It feels like he's done enough damage anyway, and there's more important things he needs to address. ]

Go fuck yourself. [ Gen stands his ground when D tries to crowd forth the next step, bearing down his weight and pushing back. i try very hard not to think about the fact that these two losers are basically mashing their boobs together ] Go find someone else if you're looking for a juice pack to take with you. I'm staying.

[ And almost before that last word's even left his lips, Gen sidesteps around D -- stumbling forward in a rush, trying to reach that crystal once more, because his gut tells him that he probably won't really get to stay here. But if he could have just a few more moments, just a few more seconds with those precious memories ... ]

[damnpire]

[When Gen stands up to him finally, D stops attempting to press forward. He doesn't back up, staying locked in a stand-still stalemate. They are smashing their stupid, edgy boobs together. By canon law, I'm supposed to tell you that Gen can feel D's musculature through the leather. (This was the dumbest thing I had ever read.)

The pang of guilt doesn't go unnoticed; D just doesn't bring it up. The fight will be worse, he thinks, if he does. Though now he knows for as awful as Gen acts, Gen is not as truly notorious as he likes to act.

He doesn't stop Gen when the other boy lumbers around him and toward the crystal again. He turns halfway around instead to watch. He pities Gen in this moment, and he isn't the type to really pity anyone. This isn't the first person he's seen others have many good things stolen from them. If he leaves Gen here like he wants, he knows he will end up feeling someone else linked to him dissipate, and he hates that the most. (Little does he know he will feel this anyway later.)

Gen gets one more little look, one more chance to make sure the safer, happier memories are there. D gives Gen as much. Young Gen and young Reiji are still there, locked away in a frozen time where they can't be hurt by life.

Then D faces Gen, casually walking over again to grab him and man-handle him up like a sack of potatoes. It's different when having to man-handle a sack who happens to be as tall and heavy as you are. He said he would take Gen out himself, and he will.]

[epiprocta]

[ Gen sinks to his knees the moment he reaches the crystal once more, hands pressed against its surface as he touches his forehead to it; shoulders hunched, fingers clawing into the unrelenting stone, it's clear how badly he wants to become one with it. To drown in those memories no matter the cost. More than anything else, even more than a Zenith victory, it's what he longs for -- the ability to go back to those few moments he could still be happy.

The fact that D pulls him away from it so soon is just a cruel reminder that it'll never come true.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Gen struggles to free himself from D's grip, though it's a little half-hearted. Distracted. And not just because he's starting to flag from dehydration and exhaustion. Gen kicks and strains, but it lacks the vindictive, vicious poison that he usually exudes during conflicts; he doesn't care to hurt D this time, it's just that he wants to return to that crystal. ]

Let go. [ A stifled grunt as he squirms, hands clawing at D's sleeve as his nails seek purchase against sleek leather. ] It's good for you, too, isn't it. If I stay here. If I'm out of Meridian's way. [ But with each step D drags him away from that crystal, his struggles are starting to fade. ] Just a little longer ...

[ It's not the same, now that D's yanked him out of his reverie once; he hadn't gotten the chance to sink back into the crystal's hypnotic allure this time. And on some level, deep down inside, he knows that D is probably doing the right thing -- the crystal is fake, and he needs to fight for Zenith. He knows that, he knows it. It's just that ... it still hurts, to let go of this.

There's defeat in the way he begins to slump in D's grasp. ]

[damnpire]

[D is not violent or rude as he steals Gen away from the hypnotic crystal screen. He lets Gen tussle without restraint, unbothered so long as Gen doesn't try to take a hunk out of him. He does, however, make sure to keep a good hold on Gen so the other boy doesn't tumble down onto the floor amid all the moving around.]

I'd rather you have the chance to even try, [he admits, honest. Unfortunately, Gen has to deal with him being incredibly honorable, and there is no honor in locking Gen away in a room rather than them standing at least on equal footing in the beginning.] There are people who care about you here, too.

[In case Gen has failed to acknowledge as much.]

You'll have to tell me about him another time. Your Reiji.

[Not that D doesn't think Reiji is his own person, someone Gen doesn't deserve to control, especially not right now with his usual tactics. But he can placate Gen for the moment, until the door thankfully bows open under his hand and allows them to emerge into the labyrinth again. D makes sure he shuts the door before he carefully plops Gen down on two feet in front of him.]

[epiprocta]

[ Gen's hapless struggles falter and lessen as they near the doorway, but they don't fully stop until the very moment the door thumps shut behind D, leaving them in the silence of the corridor outside. And even then, Gen's hand -- still outstretched, pawing at the air as he reaches for that crystal one more time -- is slow to drop in defeat.

It's obvious that he's barely registed a word D's said to him. Giving the Oracle a fair shot, and the other people here -- those all pale in comparison to the allure of what that crystal can give him. Swaying slightly on his feet as he's placed down, Gen stares longingly at that closed door for too long a moment before finally, arduously forcing himself to look at D. ]

... like you actually care.

[ Awful! Ungrateful! Shitty! But Gen's retort is clearly coming from a place of bitter hurt -- he sags back against the wall behind him as he looks towards the door once more. His hunger and thirst and exhaustion have returned full force now that he doesn't have the crystal to distract him any more; his voice is hoarse when he continues at a low mumble. ]

Even he didn't give a shit about what I had to say.

[ In typical fashion, Gen doesn't wait for a response. He simply turns and starts slinking away, keeping a hand on the wall to stabilize him as he heads down the corridor, disappearing at the first split in the hallway. ]