⏳ THE SCORCHING ISLE: Oracle Event One ⏳

[beleos]

ARRIVAL

All Bearers have heard whispers of them - the Oracles. Mysterious and unknown entities of an abstract nature, they serve as the heart of each faction’s cause - both as a means to an end and a very real stepping stone in achieving their objectives. To claim an Oracle means growing ever closer to victory: to see your homes restored as they were, or to herald in a new one of your making.

So you go.

A Cornerstone has been set up for each faction; one for the Zenith and one for the Meridian in Yima’s manor and Heliopolis, respectively. They warn you that upon transportation, your safety cannot be guaranteed and there is no telling what waits for you beyond - to be prepared. To make sure you have whatever you deem necessary with you before you go, as there is no telling when - or how - you will be coming back. CONTINUED HERE...

NOTES

Upon your arrival, you woke up with an HOURGLASS NECKLACE. Please refer to the Time Mechanics on the OOC Summary and bottom of this post for details on its usage.

The COURTYARD is frozen in time. Player Characters and the Great Tree are the only signs of moving, free life in the courtyard. During the intro, time magic does not work.

Characters are free to investigate but cannot move beyond the courtyard if you choose a prompt during the intro. You may mingle among your fellow Bearers or speak with [MR. TIBBS] if you so choose. (Also? LOOK AT HIM HELP)

Iconoclasts and Stargazers will notice Aspect benefits/detriments now.

All characters will be weak for the 24 hours - think like mild flu - and unable to leave until Mr. Tibbs has dispersed them. This is the time in which any threads with the NPC will be carried out.

The INTRO concludes with said dispersal of PC’s once interactions concluded. They will be sent to a location around the castle of your choosing; they are free to move about freely from here. Your prompts can start with you waking alone or in the presence of others - whatever you’d like!

Your character will innately understand how to use time magic from this point forward. It will come naturally to them, like a skill they were born with.

CASTLE: OVERVIEW (p a s t)

The Scorching Isles is home to the Atirat, a people of sea-dwellers who have the ability to walk on land. (Think mermaids with the ability to shift back and forth between human and mermaid forms.) As such, much of the Scorching Isles is covered in large bodies of blue water and glistening pieces of ice to accommodate their lifestyle.

THE CASTLE, however, is what dominates the landscape and it's where the Shard-Bearers will be spending their time. The white castle with colorful glass windows is obscured by a thick layer of clouds and fog. Nearly every location on the island has a thin layer of fog that rolls through it, which gives the entire Island an inescapable chill. The castle has artfully built rooms with a CAVALCADE OF DECORATIVE ICE, lavish mirrors, and white plants accented with blue decorations. Several portions of the castle are submerged due to the aquatic nature of the native residents.

And everywhere you go, you find them - STATUESQUE BODIES FROZEN mid-movement. They are haunting reminders of the power in your Hourglass - the very real power to decide their fates.

The castle has many winding paths to explore, as castles often do. There are sleeping quarters, HALLWAYS, a wine cellar, and a few large rooms presumably for diplomatic affairs. Players can use these rooms at their own leisure for whatever purposes they see fit. (Exploration, combat, or supply gathering.)

However, many of these rooms will require some strategy to access their full potential! Atirat were much more comfortable being underwater than many Kenosians may be. Therefore, rooms of higher importance may be COMPLETELY SUBMERGED or require swimming through an underwater pathway to reach them. Very minimal supplies will be kept out in the open for all to reach. More desirable supplies - such as warm clothing, small weapons, treasure, and the like - will be located past or within one of these flooded areas.

Players may gather supplies within and preserve their Sand or use their Sand to make other rooms accessible and gather whatever lies within! The larger the asset you attempt to unfreeze, the more Sand it costs - and the more drained/vulnerable you will be as a consequence, so choose your path ahead wisely.

Currently, a pervasive fog is preventing you from wandering beyond the Castle's limits. Should you try to venture past it, your Sand will rapidly be stolen and you will find yourself suffering the same fate as the islanders if you don't move back to safety quickly... However, if you ask Mr. Tibbs what lays beyond the mist - he will tell you about the thriving farmland, the once-bustling village surrounding the castle, and the beautiful coral reefs beneath it. Sadly, they're beyond your reach - but maybe if the Bearers decide to unfreeze them when the week is up...

LIBRARY (s a f e z o n e)

The ROYAL LIBRARY - A treasure trove of knowledge, history, and glimpses of a fractured past scattered throughout. The lower floor of the Library is void of much reading material and contains several intricate-looking art pieces on decorative pedestals.

A spiral staircase dominates the center of the room, with its once delicate structure overtaken by sheets of formidable ice; it leads you toward the upper levels where a sea of books awaits. There are isles and isles of books, most perched on intricately carved shelves. Many books lay in piles or are discarded onto the floor, and scattered papers are common throughout.

Curious Kenosians may pick out books from the shelves and read on various topics, but players may also pass through this room on their way elsewhere. This area will function as a safe haven where violence and the taking of others' Sand is not allowed; do not disturb the books or Mr. Tibbs won’t be happy!

NOTES

Characters who wish to receive a book with lore specific to the island may comment [HERE]. You will be RNGed a book from a pre-written list of topics. The books may give you a deeper look into the island, its inhabitants, and its history! (Only 1 book per player! Please assume all other books they read are about commonly-available topics.)

THE EATING PARLOR (p a s t)

There are no basic amenities on the island. No hot water, no warm beds, and no salacious magazines (that you know of. heh heh). That would make the Eating Parlour a wise stop for anyone. After all, this could be the perfect chance to procure some provisions!

The EATING PARLOUR has all the equipment one would need for meal preparation. Dried plants hang from the ceiling, and the walls are lined with mason jars filled with every strange manner of presumably edible thing (Is that a head over there? Hmm… maybe you should check).

The parlour also comes with a garden under a massive windowed dome so that the inhabitants could have fresh produce at hand. Many plants have withered, but there are some salvageable plants if you know how to look for them. But beware… Some of the plants have a strange blue glow. These plants can spell potential disaster.

If someone should make contact with these glowing plants, they will crumble into glass shards - glass that will quickly burrow its way under the skin and curse that person with Blight. Blight will make all resources within that person's vicinity slowly age and eventually crumble to dust. (Which I relate to on a personal level tbh.) Iconoclasts will be immune to its effects.

NOTES

Please see the "Blight" section below for more information on its effects.

TREASURE ROOM (f u t u r e)

Faint singing can be heard coming from this room. Once you hear the song, it dulls your senses and leaves you in a haze. There is no stopping your feet from guiding you to it through the doors and into the Treasure room. The door slams shut at your back, sealed with a wall of ice and magic.

Players will find themselves lured to an icy chamber bordered by a ring of cold blue fire. There is a deep pond that surrounds the platform you’ve found yourself standing on. Beyond its glassy surface and crystal clear water, one can glimpse all manner of treasures - from crowns, jewels, ornate statues in various statues of repair, scepters, spears, and books that seem impervious to the water's cold chill.

As you come to your senses, you will find yourself frozen in place and at the mercy of a large statuesque being before you. This beautiful and horrifying figure in a perpetual song is the SIREN, the only Atirat you’ve seen in person. She measures nearly 20 feet (6 meters) from her head to the tip of her long-finned tail. She cradles an icy shard in her arms, singing to it as if it were a child.

She sits serenely in front of a large hourglass filled with white sand, which is bordered by a spear and a lance. Emblazoned in faint text at the base of where she sits reads: “The future lies in our hands.”

NOTES

Welcome to the Siren’s Chamber! Players must use their wit, charisma, or some good ol' fashioned elbow grease to escape the room or break the Siren’s magic. The Shard that the Siren holds contains dormant time magic that players may activate by using the Sand within their necklace. Players can access the future in 5-second intervals and use whatever they find in that time period to escape their predicament.

For example, if they activate the shard by using their time magic, that shard will begin to glow blue. The room around them will shift, and it could change to a point in the future where there is a sword nearby. If you can grab it, now you have a weapon! When the 5 seconds are up and time returns to the present, you will still have that weapon on your person. You may also try verbal communication if you’d like. If your character is someone who would try and talk their way out of a situation diplomatically, they may give it a try!

It is up to player discretion/creativity to think of a scenario you’d like. Each “future" does not have to be the same across player encounters! What one group experiences may be tailored to the player wants (because branching timelines exist). Let your imagination run free!

HALL OF MIRRORS (p r e s e n t)

Should you reach the rightmost wing of the massive castle Library, you will find a door hidden in the very back of one aisle against a wall; it looks as though the door used to be concealed by magicks that have since dissolved.

The stairwell leads down and into darkness. Once you reach the bottom, shimmering light cast from an unknown source beneath sheets of glistening ice will illuminate your new surroundings; you are in a maze of mirror-like ice. This labyrinth is silent save for the quiet creaking of shifting ice that may disquiet you and leave you uneasy regarding the stability of this area… but it holds beneath your feet.

Mr. Tibbs had told you that the “Kaleidoscope” - where your Sand is counted - rests through here, so eventually, you must brave the journey. Is it a trick of the light? Maybe the product of an especially active imagination…?

Did you just see one of your reflections move without you?

NOTES

Please refer to the OOC Summary for details on the Hall of Mirrors!

THE BLIGHT and TIME MECHANICS

BLIGHT

Blight is an infliction that will age supplies and infect people with a creeping disease that steals their Sand. For objects, this includes weapons, food, and items like cloth. It will take a few days to deteriorate things beyond use - so watching your supplies and acting accordingly is in your best interest. Generally, it will make it more difficult for PC's to get by given that their already scarce resources will dwindle and deteriorate - especially since it's 'contagious' through touch.

The Blight will not act quickly enough to severely hamper infected persons, but repeated exposure will cause effects to a person's body - notedly protruding VEINS in the face and extremities, a lower body temperature, and increased agitation. These effects start out mild and grow more severe with each 'dose.'

Characters must touch an object/person that is Blighted to become inflicted with Blight themselves. When that happens, it will become easily identifiable as Blighted from the faint blue, shimmering outline around the infected subject, as well as the WITHERED, FROSTBITTEN or ashy appearance it takes as it progresses.

However, there is one single perk with Blight. (Or is it a perk?) Players will feel reduced impact by the cold surroundings, making the climate around them somewhat more hospitable. Beware of falling victim to a chill you can't feel...

TIME

To use your Sand, each character is granted access to and innate knowledge of a spell they channel from their Shard that automatically manipulates their Hourglass. This allows the remote control of Sand (aka gathering and dispersing), as well as the ability to pull Fragments of time from Shards.

Fragments are literal pieces of you taken from your Shard. They manifest as memories or images displayed on little shards of broken glass (think of the memory being played out in real-time on the mirror's surface), and can be crushed to convert into Sand automatically, either voluntarily or by force. The only stipulation is that the parties must be close to one another, and the Fragment must be exchanged while both Bearers are still. This means someone has to give it to you, or you need to immobilize them before you take it - one way or another.

Once the Fragment is crushed, the memory and associated time of that person's life is lost and your character will suffer amnesia until the Oracle is claimed. How deep this goes is up to you; they could lose a large chunk of time - even all their memories surrounding a person or place for a big payload of Sand, or they could lose very little for a meager net gain.

Sand is automatically gathered or distributed by your Hourglass and added/subtracted to your running total. No need to micromanage. Convenient!

Please note that using Sand to unfreeze anything (resources, a door which can be then opened, etc) is an unpleasant experience. Each time you use Sand in this way, your character will be left feeling weakened and flu-like for an hour or two, which will leave them vulnerable. This effect stacks and scales up to outright KO-ing them for a few hours if they go crazy, so unfreezing too large of an area is off the table!

NOTES

• An OOC POST will be coming shortly explaining how Sand is going to be tallied and the Oracle claimed.
• Should your character attempt to unfreeze any NPC's, please respond [HERE]. NOTE: unfreezing NPC's may result in physical violence with CW's for severe mental instability/illness and a potential reference to self-harm.
• HAVE FUN!!!

CODING

Comments

[settingup]

[ In Atsumu's mind, Amos is an absolute fool for stepping out of the warmth of the blanket. Though more than anything he's regretting the immediate loss of extra heat being pressed up against a warm body provides. Still, he's got a blanket, so he won't complain as he wraps the thing tighter around himself, and shuffles forward towards that pile.

For his own part, he squats down next to where Amos is digging, further scrutinizing the pile being made into "useful in the immediate" like that box of matches, and "expensive junk to sell later". The one pile really does have potential future use, but as he grabs one of the bags he's prioritizing shoving the dry box of matches inside instead.

Hard to think that far into the future when you constantly feel on the verge of freezing to death in the present. ]

For all the fancy stuff they own, they sure didn't leave it lookin' nice.

[gravings]

[ Gray hovers a little more anxiously as the doppelganger thrashes, ready to get involved if necessary... especially with Add in the middle of everything. Gray raises her voice a little to be heard over the ambient wrestling. ]

Do you know where it is? I can try to break it.

this feels nsfw so i'm marking it nsfw

[cutlery]

[ The lighthearted game of terms and conditions is one that Sebastian is happy to play. Like Set, he deeply enjoys being able to be clever and have a battle of wits where every word and tone is made with intention. It’s fun, and that’s all there is to it, at least in this case.

It’s why Set’s words surprise him. There’s a look of sharp surprise that’s very briefly closer to bristling than anything else. Sebastian enjoys his games of words, but his strength and his power were also very, very dear to him. He’s wanted to keep that weakness quiet and been able to put on more of a show of normalcy than most other Stargazers could manage. There’s no worse insult than being called weak.

That sudden surprise softens into a smile, but it’s razor sharp. Set’s teasing found its mark in this much more deftly. As Sebastian steps closer, it would surely make a human’s hair stand on end. An instinctual fear of an animal facing down a predator. He doesn’t expect that from Set, though. ]

Dear Nb Set…

[ His voice is all dulcet, dark honey as he steps into Set’s personal space, and a hand is set delicately on Set’s chest as if to steady himself. He dips down with languid slowness, but his eyes remain on Set’s. It’s dangerous and provocative all at once. And if Set weren’t very fun to play with… It would surely be a different conclusion. ]

I shall consider those words a debt as well. But that shall be paid when we truly trade blows. Because indeed, I would like to play with you as long as possible.

[ It’s a warning, and a far gentler one than he would give most, if only because he knows Set is actually capable of setting the slight aside and letting it be currency later. For now, their game is this, so Sebastian breaks the eye contact to instead take a good look at Set’s Shard. Like all of them, there’s something lovely and grotesque about it all at once. There’s something wrong about such an ethereal meal made physical, but… It does allow him this.

There’s not a hint of hesitation or shame as Sebastian opens his mouth. He draws his tongue across Set’s Shard with as much greedy, lascivious slowness as Set will allow. He does mean it when he says he only wants a taste of the god’s soul… But that doesn’t mean he won’t indulge in drawing out that flavor all the same. ]

[zauneyete]

I don't really care what happens.

[ He said, frankly. It's probably alien to most of them, so Determined to survive and find their little havens afterward, whether they are Meridian or Zenith, but Silco is used to having everything taken away from him. He expected it. If Yima were to tell him tomorrow that it wasn't possible to have his daughter again at the end of this, what would it change? He couldn't return, he couldn't really bring her back, but he could lay waste to everything in his path.

That, after all, was more important than this promised utopia in the end, where everything was nice, and families were "together". Yima's promises fell short of what was "attainable" to Silco, and that was perfectly fine. He didn't need her promises to get what he wanted. ]

I only care that this world, and the rest of them are gone. Whatever happens afterward doesn't matter.

[gravings]

[ Gray does indeed weigh a sack of rice and a half, and so does her doppelganger, so the imposter goes up easily in Atsumu's grip. It won't stop the doppelganger from thrashing around like a cat in a bag, but Gray wastes no time taking advantage of the assist. She grabs Add (the real one) and delivers a vicious arc of her scythe that eats the doppelganger from side to side — that falls short of cutting Atsumu, of course. As the bottom half of the doppelganger falls away, so does the rest of her in a shadowy crumble, disintegrating until there's nothing but dust in Atsumu's grasp. ]

[zauneyete]

I don't think I have a choice, do you?

[ He asked, with a slight scoff. He didn't like this creature, this elf, they were soft, and had emotions for the Tree, of all things. Something that Silco wanted revenge on simply because it had taken his daughter away from him -- or so he blamed it -- and nobody understood the nature of pure anger and fury, when one didn't share.

And Silco... had never been one for sharing. ]

I can sneak up to it again, if that's what you're asking for. It will... have very little defense if we catch it by surprise.

[ Although it had noticed him before. Had it been his feet? His soft-soled shoes were generally quiet, and something that didn't attract attention.

But if it could see through that, they would need a better plan, and Silco knew little about magic. ]

[hauntedking]

Perhaps. If it came from there... it might be defeated using said mirror as well.

[ He grinds his teeth together, still putting his weight into his own doppelganger. He seems... yeah, oddly at peace with this. ]

I'll hold this one here. Can you try and find it?

sobs and hands this to you

[redsoil]

[ It is not an offer he makes lightly, for he is so viciously protective over the existence of his child. The promise he made to Anubis before being banished from Heliopolis (his own, not the one of Springstar — ) an integral piece, if not the only one, that bound him to Meridian's forces. That he speaks of his child with Hayame is because,

Because she is stalwart and true.

A hard woman, but one he feels he doesn't have to be worried about turning around and using the information in an underhanded way. If she does, well. It will not be the first nor the last betrayal he's experienced, though he knows he would be — disappointed. Bereft, perhaps, of whatever grows between them. As what rests between them now is the join of their hands, his fingers clasping the sides of hers as she holds fast to him. He draws her into Communion, anchoring them together by the pressure of their hand hold, as he turns his head into the nonexistent distance of their mental bridge. Looking far, across what is both bleak emptiness and a full scene that begins to sprawl.

He holds Hayame's hand, and in the same moment, he draws away from her to chase the sound of boyish cries. Striding in gleaming, gold jewelry and soft linen shendyt towards the stumbling, toddler-sized child that runs forth from the inner depths of the warm, sandstone halls of Heliopolis's chief temple. Fat hands and fat legs, he is far too young for his own momentum, and very nearly falls over himself were it not for Set's hands sweeping under the crux of his arms to gather him up. In that memory, he tucks the dark hair of his son under his chin and presses the rounded body close to his shoulder, cradling him with skill — attentive and tender in ways he does not show himself to be otherwise.

Anubis, he chides softly as the child begins his hiccuping, clutching at the white cloth attached to his father's dark, animal-face headdress, I'm home now, don't cry. Your mother was here all this time, you weren't alone. The word that Anubis cries is jty, a miserable little thing that must be 'dad', as he thrashes and wriggles and gives in to every ill-tempered action to punish his father for being gone so long. Eventually, the headdress is knocked askew, falling towards the floor where it scatters into sand first — and Set's hair is clutched at next, fistfuls of red that he bears with stride.

His expression is nothing short of adoring, as he pushes his nose into the short fall of dark hair and bounces his son softly in his arms: What is it, then? What has you so distraught today?

Anubis warbles: I couldn't find you, as if such a thing were the end of the world itself, you went too far, and you couldn't come back and I couldn't find you. Again, he chokes on his own tears, while Set strokes his head, his neck, the fat curve of his thigh so reverently. I know, he says, I'm a terrible father to you, how do you always forgive me? Here, come meet my friend. I brought a friend home, you'll like her. She is tall and strong like your father, a brilliant warrior with the bow and spear. You love the spear, remember?

He won't let Hayame protest, nor retreat. The memory becomes a new reality, divorced from the historical proceedings that must have followed, as Set quietly carries the calming child to where he has left Hayame in their communion. There, his son peers at her with large, dark eyes and sniffs heartily against his father's shoulder. ]

Hayame.

[ Set's expression is nothing short of calm, careful. ]

This is Anubis. He is older now than you see him, but my favorite memories of him are ones like this. He cried all the time; when he was sad, when he was happy, when he was angry, his heart the most tender thing you could have imagined.

im so glad we all were expected to know what our characters' souls tastes like

[redsoil]

[ Certainly, his heart leaps. To have found a sensitive little place among all of Sebastian's enviable composure is akin to striking a satisfying wound on a rival, a playmate. To nudge wickedly against it is to toy with his own experience in being on the receiving end of 'weakness', skirting around the edges of it deftly without looking twice into the dark basis that held every insult and injury he'd ever received. He utters a delighted little oh! at the sharpness that comes to Sebastian's gaze, the edge of his smile.

For a moment, he expects a blow and it would be proudly received, at that. It's like scoring a point in the game he hopes could be endless between them. He's not had anyone like this in his life, clever and shrewd in ways that truly keep him teetering on the edge — caught somewhere between feeling so very wise and so very inexperienced. ]

I'm as keen on the decadence as I am the blood on the floor, Sebastian. I look forward to it.

[ He knows what he says, as the demon takes stock of the thing embedded within his body. The evocative image of a tattered hole over his heart, as though nothing were left to it at all but the wound; the soul and the heart, the mind and the personality — all existed as elements of the soul, and he hasn't stopped to wax philosophical on his own shard, nor the nature of them. Not yet, he hasn't had the time or the desire, after all. How does a god's soul become so compact, when it is as vast as existence itself? Their conversation about the lacking fullness of their beings lingers in the back of his mind.

For a small thing, there is a lot to it. Like dipping a curious finger into a dark pool of water and immediately knowing it goes on forever; there is a faint bitterness to it, the edges of something once full-bodied and rich gone to tatters from rough treatment. The pressure building in the ears as a thunderstorm builds heavy and low in the distance, the silken slide of fine grains of sands being carded through sensitive fingers. A single burst of wrath like a ripe fruit, the hint of that dark coil of Set's divinity kept so far from him; the potential of his evil. Wrath, bleeding spite, irascible resentment and oh, there is something possibly lovely in the tarnish, too —

It's the last thing Sebastian might taste, since he's taking his sweet freaking time. But it's only a taste. There's so much more in there, undoubtedly. A god is the soul, too. ]

[gravings]

[ It's a plausible enough suggestion. Gray looks a little worriedly between Dimitri and the creature pinned to the floor. Though with the readiness Dimitri has to oversee his doppelganger's suffering, maybe she should be worried in a different way. But a little bit of direction goes a long way with Gray, so given a task, she's quick to take action. She unsticks her scythe from the doppelganger lest it try to use it while she's away. She has a feeling that Dimitri will have things well in hand with his spear alone. ]

Okay. I'll be back soon. Um, please commune with me if anything changes.

[ With that, she trots off in search of any suspicious-seeming mirrors. It might take a bit longer than expected since they really all look the same... In the end she falls back on her spiritual sensitivity, moving slowly through the maze and focusing on any trace amounts of magical energy that may give away a magical mirror. Please hold... ]

[lockedon]

[ His opinion is that they all suck in their own ways.

There's something familiar in that simple answer though, an echo of words he's heard before. What was it again, a desire to see the conclusion of a story? Moving forward to further the narrative? Too many story-specific terms for his tastes, but maybe that's to be expected from a guy that spends more of his time around books than people.

It's a similar determination, in any case, magnified by the way they're all linked here now, whether they wish for it or not. It's enough for him to get a sense of the word, 'companions', and roll a silent thought around in his head before coming to terms with it. ]

I'll leave them to you then. [ Not that it was ever his job to begin with. ] The next time Han Sooyoung asks me to play babysitter, I'll tell her to call you.

[lockedon]

[ You're welcome, Gray. Nothing like a little bit of blood and guts oozing shadowy essence to further acclimate a girl to the battlefield. There's probably more of where this came from in their futures...

Not that anyone here is really thinking more than three seconds into the future, too busy fighting for their lives in the immediate present to daydream about time periods after that. Gray Prime goes skidding across the smooth floor, Gray the Second makes an absurdly quick dash towards Eustace the Remaining, and Eustace has just enough time to shift the angle of his gun so that it gets knocked out of his hands rather than his head getting separated from his body. Unfortunately, the arc of the scythe also means it cuts a deep gash in his arm, the sudden blossom of pain enough to elicit a grunt of pain. Without his knife or his gun, all that he has left is—

One hand reaches for his shard, acting on instinct in order to protect his life and Gray's without any thought to the consequences he might suffer.

The memory that erupts forth is one he's always cherished, the one he always turns to when his thoughts settle for the night or when he wonders if he's doing the right thing. A girl with blonde hair and a ready smile, and the girl in blue next to her. They nod at each other before the girl in blue clasps her hand together as if in prayer, eyes closing and voice murmuring quietly. Behind her, a shadowy form coalesces, taking on the shape of a giant dragon, it's maw opening to unleash a torrent of fire onto the grounds below in the direction of Gray Alter.

Maybe not enough to destroy, but enough to distract and give OG Gray time to recover while Eustace makes a dash for his fallen gun. ]

[settingup]

[ He's been judged for less. Still, Atsumu is making sure to wrap the cloak around him tighter, just to make it clear he's not planning to give it back just because he revealed himself to be a prick.

But while he's weirdly fine with being judged, he'd rather avoid any lectures that could come with it, so he attempts to deflect the conversation. ]

What's your plan to help 'em out then?

[gravings]

[ As sturdy as Gray (and her Alter) is, dragons are creatures of a different order. Doppelgray comes to an urgent halt as she senses the massive power of the creature that manifests and immediately forfeits the shape of her scythe so that it can shift to an oversized shield instead. The dragon's maelstrom of fire descends upon her, but the shield manages to keep her from burning to ashes — even as the force of the dragon's power drives her to her knees and the conflagration rips at the edges of her existence.

Meanwhile, the dragon's interference gives OG Gray more than enough time to rejoin the fight. She pauses at the edge of the flaming downpour, putting her confusion to the wayside so that she can shift her own scythe into an elaborate longbow and arrow. Knowing her own durability, she pours as much magical energy as she can into her arrow, to preserve its journey through the hellfire.

She lets the arrow fly and it strikes true, burying itself into her doppelganger's chest, forcing Gray Alter's hold on her shield to falter sideways. Yet still Doppelgray persists, her body propped up entirely on her magical energy's ability to puppeteer her limbs and bodily functions. ]

[settingup]

[ The vision happens in a flash, short and sweet as the image of the Siren reeling back while small pieces in her own collection of treasure fly into her face with enough gusto to distract her as Joonghyuk makes his second attack on her.

When it vanishes Atsumu is left blinking for a few seconds, before it hits him just what it is was happening in that vision. He twists to face the general area the Siren seems to favor swimming around in, planting his feet as firmly as possible on a mound of shifting treasure under his feet.

Using his lungs to their fullest capacity, he yells out to Joonghyuk-- ]

Hey! Make her surface!

[ As if it's that easy...

But it's necessary if he's going to use one of his few powers to literally blow her own hoard right back at her. ]

sobs and takes it

[warmare]

[In one reality, Hayame is slumped against the walls of an icy staircase, her breathing labored and her blood staining the ground, clasping the hand of the war god in ripped robes kneeling in front of her. But in another, in the world of communion... she is standing alone with hot desert wind rustling through her long hair (ink black but for the single strands of crimson) as he leaves her to walk over the sand towards a grand temple... and the small, wailing thing that comes racing out of it.

How strange is it, that she could face her own doppelganger and primarily feel rage, yet now find herself paralyzed with fear?

His son is small and pathetic, not at all what she imagined when she thought of the child of a god. Even if it were not a son of his loins... she had assumed him still divine from some way or form, and to see such a being sniffling and sobbing over the return of his father... How is it familiar? Ah. The hands clasping in the brilliant hair remind her of when she had. The bolas had been tangled around her fetlocks, then, her lungs heaving, struggling on the ground and capture imminent, but she had seen it clearly- the young son of Matsukaze whose life that proud, strong man had gotten on the ground and begged her for (that she had coldly refused), throwing his arms in tears around his father when they were reunited. How Matsukaze had wept openly, then, too, when he had never cried when her men beat him or when she'd bound him to drag him back to her stablemaster in fetters.

But that child, half his face ruined by melted, burned skin, had not looked at her like this one ("Anubis") does, when Set finally calls his attention to her. - My friend. Had he just called her his friend? No, it was surely just... something one said to children, to explain the presence of strangers. Something to make the child look at her with curiosity and wonder in his teary eyes more than the sheer hatred and fear she'd seen in Matsukaze's son towards the people who had taken his father away. What-

What did she say? When her younger brother had come to her crying she had slapped him, shaken him, half smothered him in her side, anything to keep the sounds of his weakness from being overheard by the other armed jinba or the grooms, who might tell the stablemaster and not only ruin Yubari's chances at success but her own by association. But Set, he... embraces it. Encourages it. And she cannot run from it, the sand is heavy on her hooves, even though something sticks in her throat that prevents her from responding until she can finally force out-]

Hello, Anubis.

[- What did that feel like? Not the false sensation Yima had once put into her head, but the actual arms of a parent embracing you when you were small and sad and powerless? It should be disgusting, what she is seeing. But instead, for some reason... it makes her hearts ache, the rest of anything that she might have said lost, unable to turn her gaze away from the child back to its father.]

and it wasn't even something I put in there!!!

[cutlery]

[ Set’s acceptance gets Sebastian to scoff. It’s not dismissive, just amused that the god accepts his little threat so easily. He expects nothing else, in a way, but it’s delightful all the same.

However, it’s quickly forgotten as he takes stock of his prize instead. For as complex as Sebastian could be, he was remarkably simple in this. He’s a gourmand who takes in the taste of a soul as an experienced sommelier would their wine. It’s something new and exotic, a sort of soul he’s never tasted before and surely never will again (unless Set is so generous as to allow this more than once). It’s a soul that’s rich and heady in its greatness since it’s so much vaster than a simple, human soul. But he can still taste notes that are familiar all the same.

There are all those little notes of failings that are so much more human in nature. Resentment is a sweetness-tinged bitterness, wrath and anger are warm and tannic, and there’s that something that’s lovely indeed. That potential for evil is precisely what Sebastian wants to drink deeply of, to pull it out of people and see it bloom into a flavor all the more decadent. It had been an idle thought before, but now it deeply strikes him how much he would enjoy tempting Set into indulging into the potential he tastes here.

For the demon, though the experience is overall brief, it’s still pure, hedonistic pleasure.

There’s also a part of him that’s tempted to take advantage of Set’s bold trust and swallow him whole, but Sebastian is a demon that prides himself on his sophistication. His instincts want him to gorge himself on this soul so nearly in his maw, but his reason has him pulling back with a sigh that’s both regretful for having to pull away but also deeply satisfied for getting such a sample. His eyes flicker back up to Set’s, and his lips purse back into a mischievous smile.

Before he pulls away completely, he does bite at the skin around Set’s Shard. He’s still wearing his (mostly) human teeth, so it’s just a pinch of small fang that pierces the skin just enough to bleed. It’s like a cat playfully asserting its displeasure with a nip. ]

[passio]

[ amos is able to get away. the limbs he cuts fall twitching to the ground, in little clicks that denote some chitin on its legs compared to the soft meat of its body. unfortunately for amos, it didn’t really need those legs, nor did it need to be that close in the first place. it drifts to cover the space amos has tried to create, and the second time it’s in proximity—

—it simply breathes in.

but dextera knows what that breath does. he’s died from it. in the past, its kin have crept silently upon him and done exactly the same when he was too tired to run. it isn’t a bloody death, which is part of the reason he’s summoned it—amos doesn’t have to die at all, but there’s no dignity in the way it’ll drain him of his vitality, leaving him weak enough for dextera to pluck that sand. it will breathe in his very life until its full, and only luck can decide what will become of amos by then.

either way, it’ll be humiliating, and the spiteful part of dextera wants to see it. ]

[hauntedking]

[ Dimitri shoots her a tense smile which has an edge to it. He's ready for this. Even if the doppelganger thrashes and starts to pull itself up the spear toward him. ]

Go-! I'll be fine!

[ The sound of fighting fades behind her as she walks. The maze is... almost endless, it seems. There are traces of magic everywhere, light and reflections going this way and that. And then-

Wait, is that mirror no longer throwing a reflection? How odd. ]

[hauntedking]

I'm still in the process of figuring out what can be done. Magic is... not my strong point.

[ He admits that with a sigh. ]

But there's got to be something.

[lifespanned]

[ All things considered, she's not that surprised when her hand is caught, even if she does struggle against it. When she sees Light's face reflected back at her, perhaps the assumed reaction would be for her to beg and plead for Akua to return him. But that isn't what rises to the surface first at all: it's a cold, deep-seated resent. A bloodlust that would feel came on much too quickly and easily for the young woman for it to be truly something out of the ordinary for her. In her furious stare, watching the shard get crushed before her, there's only a possessiveness, and an unfiltered desire to lash out at the woman before her.

Because as soon as the shard is gone — she feels it. A shuddering, utter loss. Something so monumental and stabilizing that to be in absence of it makes her feel like tearing everything around her down. Misa is no stranger to losing memory. But here? There's no promise or scheme that it'll come back, is there? For all she knows, it could be lost forever.

She can't be certain what it was - a person? a place? a happening? - but she can be certain that this woman is at fault for this feeling of it being gone. She doesn't need the cinders, doesn't need the knife in her hand. "Akua Sahelian," that's all she needs. ]

Is that what you think? [ Her expression hardens. ] I'll kill you one day for what you just did.

[ And there it is again: all the confidence of someone assured that it isn't a question of if she'll be able to do it, but when. All the pretense of the fun, quirky idol washes away to sea the minute the memory of Light gets brought into the equation - to tear him away, even without her knowledge, peels back every layer that hides the impulsive, violent person she is at her core. She can't hold the threat in - and she doesn't want to, either. If there were ever any doubt to the depth of her obsession with the man in the shard, the mysterious Light Yagami... well, it wouldn't be necessary anymore.

Misa's free hand is quick to clutch at her own hourglass again, cracking off a large chunk haphazardly, and in the next instant, a towering figure materializes behind Misa herself, skeletal and otherworldly, and just as cold as the environment they're in. Bat-like wings sprout from the being's back, and an enormous, bony arm cradles her small body in it, pulling back with an inhuman strength - clearly trying to separate Misa from Akua herself. While the being makes no direct offensive move, it's clear that in the being's gaze is a fierce sense of protection - like she'll be willing to do whatever it takes to keep Misa safe. ]

YES AND YOU BENEFIT!!

[redsoil]

[ Driven by their agreed-upon pact, it is his very soul that he antes up. Nary a hesitation in him, where perhaps there ought to be; a god is the soul, the embodiment of something metaphysical made into the shape of something tangible, and as Sebastian rakes his tongue across the smooth surface of the shard that manifests as the shape and make of the god's soul, he feels the draw-and-tug of feasting upon him. It crawls from his guts into his chest, like being hooked at a single point and pulled into a point there.

The threat of being eaten whole is one he's never experienced before, not in such a way as this. The actual act of consumption, especially by a hedonistic glutton, leaves his head spinning and shoulders pressing forward, tension lining his limbs — a sense of defensiveness, rather than fear, and a strange sensation of delight. He's not found disgusting in flavor, it seems. To be palatable to someone? To find his soul, the seat of his being, something tasteful in the mouth of someone — anyone — is oddly soothing.

Addictive.

Sebastian is very close, when he finishes. For a moment, Set hovers in silent. His expression vaguely stunned, as though he expected the demon to reject him ( find him lacking, find him undesirable not at all to his tastes ), only to clearly witness the opposite.

What does that say about me? he wants to ask, but the prick of the demon's teeth demands instant, animal retaliation. Startled, but not wrathful, Set's own teeth snag at the face of the creature still bowed before him, scoring small patch of skin along the curve of his ear. Two cats, at that, one acting and one retaliating without thinking; two natural things, inhuman at their core, simply acting upon one another. He, too, has teeth. Claws that extend when he curls his fingers, like the paw of a cat. A wild and brash thing to Sebastian's cultivated domestication; he bleeds all the same. ]

I take it, that it was a fair prize.

[appeale]

[ in a way, seeing her reflection move independently strikes Rudbeckia as more natural than when it follows her movements. it isn't her, after all. like this, it feels like the real Rudbeckia is talking to her, and she can imagine for a moment that she's still in the body she pictures for herself. none of that unsettles or frightens her. it's only the things it says, as it twirls its long golden hair around its finger, that leave her reeling. ]

More hat than... Ah. Do you mean my father? Well, he certainly didn't help.

[ its cold gaze slides off of Gu Yun, uninterested in him when its real target is cowering in his shadow. ]

That isn't... [ the girl beside Gu Yun makes to continue down the hall, pulling hard on his arm to urge him to follow. there's an anxious smile on her expression, but her pupils are trembling, eyes filled with fear. ] Signore, don't you think we should keep moving?

Oh, that was too bold. You're telling him what to do?

[ as if burned, Ruby releases her hold on Gu Yun's arm and stumbles back. that's right—she needs to be careful not to overstep even in a situation like this. she has to play dumb, she has to... what is she going to do? this stupid reflection just keeps talking and it's going to ruin her— ]

Everyone turns on you sooner or later. What are you going to do when this one gets sick of you? Just run away, Ruby.

[ in that moment, when she looks up at Gu Yun, it seems like she really might do just that. ]

[zauneyete]

[ Psychic. Silco knew little of them, beyond what fairy tales he'd read Jinx when she was younger, or what fantasies people spoke of. There were always tales of such things, but they did not exist on Runeterra. (Or rather, in Silco's limited scope, as a poor piece of filth from Zaun, he knew not of them.) He knew, however, to be wary, and it's clear, with the wry smile on his face, as he says: ]

Going to read my mind, then, are you?

[ He goaded him, taunted him. Dared him to do so as he thought of why children like this would deserve kindness over the children of Zaun. Silco had grown up mining, a child laborer in the fissures where he'd learned to smuggle, and grasped to someone else to support him -- supported each other -- as they fought to work themselves out of mining and working away for their betters above, smuggling, founding the lanes, and then -- betrayal hot and white, filled with seething anger and fury.

Why did he hate these children, who were simply handed a future they did not deserve? Why did he hate any of these individuals, these other Zenites, Meridian, and unharmonized who deigned to waste the opportunity they were given?

Silco wanted to burn it all down because he was jealous, hated it, because these children didn't deserve a future Jinx didn't have, a shard though she was. That this man decided his should have friends just spoke to weakness. Friends betrayed. A lesson this kid would clearly not learn, and clearly would have no hardness to deal with.

He could not imagine a childhood so soft, had not offered a childhood that soft to Jinx, either. She was too strong to be wasted like that. ]

Perhaps as the greatest psychic, I'll leave that as a mystery for you to find out. I'm sure it will not take long, hm? I have not been quiet about where I come from, or what my past was like.

Not all of us get the opportunity of a future, and have to fight for the mere possibility.

[ How long would he have lived, in the mines? Scrawny, and small? If he had been left to wither away under Piltover's thumb? His hands still held the scars from injuries and cuts, his face a patchwork of more scars all over -- excluding the most obvious, the one that rippled underneath a heavy coat of makeup -- the man had held a hard life, even if he used derision and honeyed words to pretend it was less so. ]

[oomfies]

[ Disparaging?? Caren?? You're supposed to be on her side?!! Why are you lecturing her!!! Lottie doesn't say anything immediately, but her face says it all: the betrayal. ]

I'm not — I'm not saying anything mean..

[ She mutters, as water is wiped across the crusted blood to her skin and she scrunches her face a little at the contact. It's cold, just like everything else here, and it makes her teeth idly chatter if only for the reminder of their situation. ]

That's what I was talking about though! It's like.. [ how does she explain alpha dudes in a normal way ] The whole struggle for dominance thing. I guess it probably doesn't help the other side is like that, too.. [ A mumble, ] More guys just wanting to fight dudes.