⏳ 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

for amos.

[passio]

[ really and truly, dextera isn’t targeting amos specifically. the logic bears out like so: he needs sand to replenish what he’s used, he can’t ask for sand from his fellow meridians nor the unharmonized, and there are some people on zenith that are off limits too. amos is someone he knows he won’t lose face with, although their last conversation ended as close to amicably as the two could have possibly come.

they still don’t understand each other, and as such, dextera is not worried about losing a potential ally. ]

…

[ he needs to immobilize amos somehow, which is a more difficult task than it might have been in horos, where he’d had time to make traps. he starts off simple, then, using one of the spells he’s tentatively learned to grasp in his time here to conjure up the illusion of a moving shadow in amos’ periphery, hoping to get him to turn. ]

[baltimores]

[ Amos turns.

The thing about this place is there's no movement. It takes a little bit to get used to that, to the point that anything moving is odd as hell. Wrong. More likely than not a sign that things are about to go south, and his reflexes have adapted accordingly — he draws the dagger sheathed at his side, whirling in the direction of...

Of nothing. A moving shadow, with nothing physical actually casting it. That. That doesn't seem right.

Amos stares at it for a second, hesitating as he decides what to do, before he starts to glance around him, blade at the ready. Something's up, he just doesn't know what. ]

[passio]

[ dextera himself is not a particularly stealthy person. once he decides to move, he’ll be noticed without a doubt, so he has to make his one and only advantage count. as soon as amos seems to linger in one direction, dextera lashes out from behind.

truthfully, he doesn’t want to hurt amos. at least, not with his first blow, not if he can simply keep the man from moving on him. instead, his blade is still strapped around his shoulder, laid against his back where he most comfortably keeps it, and he aims his open palm between amos’ shoulder blades with the white-hot light of purification improving the power behind it. ]

—!

[ knock amos breathless, knock him down, steal his sand. dextera just has to hope he can do it. ]

[baltimores]

Gah!

[ Amos doesn't... doesn't know what just hit him at all. What is hitting him, right now. Something in between his shoulders feels like it's burning, it's painful, and he twists around rapidly in an attempt to dislodge it, swinging his dagger through the air as he does so.

Whether he inadvertently hits Dextera or not, he certainly sees him as he breaks free from him, turning around, eyes wild — a wounded animal about to choose fight over flight. Recognition dawns in his gaze, and if it wasn't their life forces they were dealing with, Amos might have taken a second to snap at him, what the fuck is wrong with you? as though he wouldn't have done something similar if he'd gotten the drop.

But they're already beyond talking, so Amos lunges forward to try to stab Dextera in the heart. Getting him to bleed out would leave his sand vulnerable for Amos to take, wouldn't it? Fair's fair. ]

[passio]

[ dextera did manage to throw him off, and now the struggle is to maintain the meager advantage he’s eked out for himself. the dagger is not easy to dodge with that in mind, but he is able to pull himself back. amos is nothing compared to monsters with whirling blades whose only purpose is to disembowel and consume him.

in that sense, being able to communicate is a luxury he’s willing to take. ]

You don’t need your memories!

[ that’s how he processes the sand; not as living time, but as something much more valuable. amos shouldn’t want to fight back all that much. ]

[baltimores]

[ He misses — an act that is okay for now, because he isn't being attacked right now. Instead, Dextera is just yelling at him, and for... what? He hasn't seen the guy since the reflecting pool. Doesn't think anything there would have been cause to set him off; sure, he'd demanded to see one of Amos' memories, but that isn't a reason to try to kill him.

Because that's what this is, as far as he can tell — Dextera is trying to take Amos' life source for himself. The memories are, ultimately, meaningless; the hole from whatever Mr. Tibbs had taken from him filled itself pretty quick. (No. Was just ignored pretty quick.)

But fine. Dextera wants to talk; he'll talk. Amos switches over to communion himself, warily circling Dextera, dagger still at the ready. ]

They're mine. [ Emphasis on the possession. ] You don't need my memories either.

[ And when he sees an opening, he'll go for another stab — he doesn't need any of Dextera's memories, but he will take his life source if he can. ]

[passio]

[ there was nothing about dextera’s conversation with the stupid, stupid otter that would lead him to believe he could get back his own memories by taking someone else’s, but there was the cheerful implication that he could win something. he doesn’t even know if he wants the prize, considering what the world looks like around them right now—but he’s desperate, so he’ll fight. ]

Yes—

[ dextera is distracted by his own answer, and amos gets a good cut on his sleeve. luckily, dextera is bundled up enough against the cold that it doesn’t actually get to his skin. ]

—I do! I have to save these people.

[baltimores]

[ It's a quick retreat for Amos; stab, then fall back, which means he doesn't actually get to draw blood. The price he pays for being cautious, but so far, nothing's actually the matter. Mild blows have been traded, but that's all.

Even if Amos is the one who has actually gotten hurt here so far, his teeth gritting as he remembers that sensation against his back. Fuck this, actually.

He continues to circle him still looking for an opening. His eyes are fixed at a point on Dextera's throat, not even bothering to look him in the eye as he responds. ]

These people are as good as dead. Cut your losses and move on.

[ His tone is harsh, cold, closed off. Maybe it's a warning to Dextera, too — Walk away and you won't end up dead. ]

[passio]

[ dextera has thought like that, too, but hearing it from someone else just frustrates him. it’s amos’ lack of empathy again, the stark and evident differences between their philosophies laid out for dextera to see and resent. it doesn’t feel like this with other people he disagrees with—maybe because amos is the only person he’s met so far who seems so sure he’s on the right side. ]

That doesn’t mean we get to play with their lives. It’s not our choice to make.

[ the archangel has already pushed him to try to choose, and it’s overwhelming to think of all the lives he holds in his hands. knowing that they can’t save everyone, no matter what he does, is brutal.

but if he takes amos’ sand, he can allot a little more. that’s what he reasons, when he digs deep in his memories for something grotesque to match amos’ physical strength. ]

[baltimores]

[ He feels that dissonance, that animosity coming from Dextera — the fact that they can be similar enough to share an aspect, different enough that what divides them goes far beyond faction choices. He has no clue what he's done to earn the guy's ire. Doesn't really care. Where Dextera feels the weight of lives that could depend on him, Amos feels absolutely nothing, simply because it's not his problem. They aren't his people.

But if Dextera doesn't understand that by now, then he's not going to. Amos isn't playing with anybody's life — he's simply leaving them be, the exact way they'd be normally if he hadn't shown up at all. This isn't on him. He has nothing to say, nothing to prove.

What is on him is how much he can retrieve for Zenith. For the people he has who are still alive, who actually matter. So he moves back in towards Dextera, to try to grab him, hold him down, take what he can from him to put an end to the threat... with absolutely no clue what might be coming for him as he does. ]

[passio]

[ dextera understands, with the instinctive comprehension of their sand that came with arrival, that if amos gets his hands on him before dextera can summon up his creature, it’s over. ]

…

[ he thinks it’s successful, but the sacrifice leaves him momentarily stunned and vulnerable, allowing amos to do with dextera whatever he will. dextera will struggle, of course, because he doesn’t want to be hurt—but having died and been reborn countless times now, dextera knows that his body is a little hardier than some people would assume at first blush.

on the other side of amos, soundless thanks to the way that it floats over the ground without touching it, a grotesque cephalopod moves toward the two living targets. just because dextera summoned it doesn’t mean it’s beholden to him, but he’s trusting that amos’ bigger and hardier body will make him more interesting prey between the two.

…and, that it will choose to attack amos before amos puts dextera to death a second time. ]

[baltimores]

[ Amos goes straight for Dextera's neck the second he sees an opening, dagger up against it, just above his hourglass. He's got a firm grip on Dextera despite his struggling, but really, Amos recognizes he doesn't need to outright kill him. The blade's proximity is more a method of control than anything else as he dips in, tries to collect Dextera's sand.

He doesn't hear anything. Doesn't suspect anything, even though he knows Dextera has done something. But as long as he's got a hold on him—

He's the one closest to the cephalopod, though, his body shielding Dextera's from it in a perversion of protection. And before he can do anything — between Dextera's struggles and Amos' need to ensure he gets this right — he feels something against his back.

Something that cannot possibly be right.

With a shout of surprise Amos whips around, abandoning Dextera completely as he does, blindly lashing out with his dagger against

he doesn't know what

what the fuck

And through their empathic connection, Dextera will probably feel Amos' own sense of shock (dread), as he doesn't know what is suddenly looming over him, nor how to kill it. ]

[passio]

[ being held by amos just reaffirms that dextera would never, ever be able to take him in an entirely physical fight. he needs his tricks, he needs these advantages. once they leave here, he doubts he’ll be able to summon one of these creatures again, but amos might expect it and prepare accordingly—every time dextera does something new to him, he’ll have to do something different the next time.

but there will always be a next time. he’ll make sure of that. ]

—!

[ dextera is let go at the critical moment, admittedly frightened by how close he got to loss there. at least fright is shared, and he knows to put distance between them even as he coughs and forces his heart calm again.

the dagger successfully cuts into the flesh of the creature, but it doesn’t bleed. it just rips open a bit, and it seems unharmed otherwise; more than unharmed enough to reach out, latching the hooked tips of its tentacles into amos’ clothes. its strange, tubelike mouth flutters in front of his face, but it mercifully doesn’t seem like it’s going to spit anything on him. in fact, with the slow, gelatinous way it moves, it doesn’t seem immediately evident what it plans, if anything, to do.

dextera doesn’t actually say anything, but there’s a thread in their link nonetheless that feels like confrontation. the mental shove seems to say, “see what I’ve dealt with? and how I still want to bring my world back?” ]

[baltimores]

[ what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck

Typically when Amos' heart pounds with adrenaline it's something welcome. He feels at home in the midst of a fight; peaceful when surrounded by, inflicting violence. His body's fight or flight response almost always gears towards the former, and it's something he can embrace, if not outright enjoy.

His body is kind of telling him that he should flee. He doesn't know what this thing is, he can't hurt it, it's reaching out to touch him and maybe nothing is happening right now but he doesn't know if that's going to stay the case.

Amos feels Dextera's sentiments right at the same time his panic spikes, any feedback he might have had in return drowned out by sheer horror. He's afraid of this. He's afraid of something else entirely.

With a yell he reaches up to slice through the tentacles latching hold of him, backing away whether he was able to sever them or not. It's just a question of how far away he can get, eyes firmly on that thing, Dextera nearly forgotten in his growing alarm. ]

[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. ]

[baltimores]

[ At least it isn't touching him anymore. And he still seems okay. That's one initial fear alleviated, one latent terror dispersed.

It breathes in, and he feels something else entirely.

Amos has spent a lifetime cultivating strength. Genetics gifted him some, and he'd leaned into it, because it was the one thing that he knew could keep him safe. One thing that he knew he could count on. He wouldn't be small anymore; he wouldn't be helpless again. He'd be okay.

He is slowly feeling himself becoming not okay. The dagger — the dagger Yima herself had gifted to him, like it was made for him — starts to feel heavy in his hand; his arms start to feel like too much. His legs wobble, shake as he tries to take another step back, because he doesn't know what's happening to him — just that this is wrong, and he doesn't know how to kill it when even his own body is starting to feel like too much for him.

His knees buckle. It takes everything in him to remain standing, although he couldn't say what good that's even doing him in the moment.

In looking around him for something — anything — he sees Dextera again. He inhales, and even that feels a bit too much, but there's a part of him that can tell what Dextera is getting out of this. It's more than a sense of victory, and Amos' chest tightens. His lips peel back in what's barely a snarl and his legs finally give out, as he collapses to his knees, dagger limp in his hand, blade's tip brushing against the ground, and has just enough left in him to think, ]

What the fuck is wrong with you.

[passio]

[ it’s such a twisted part of him. his baroque, perhaps—or maybe worse than even that, a sane but cruel sensibility for seeing the suffering of people who have hurt him. amos hasn’t even really taken a blow, but dextera knows the torment that having one’s life drained away can bring.

that demand is no surprise. ]

…

[ his expression, oddly, shows no satisfaction. it’s nothing but a cool regard for what needs to be done, and he takes the opportunity he’s created to steal away amos’ sand: it’s enough for one fragment, a single but hefty memory, rather than draining amos for all he’s worth.

behind the cool gaze, however, amos’ accusation still holds weight. a sense of success lurks in his pulse. ]

Thank you. [ —he has the indecency to say, and he even dismisses the monster, his own sand dispersing along with its form. before the knowledge of it goes entirely, he offers this, as if he’s helping. ] You won’t die. You just have to wait.

[baltimores]

[ He recognizes that expression on Dextera; it's one he's worn most of his life. Just get the job done, by any means necessary. It just so happens that this job for Dextera is one Amos is fundamentally, viscerally opposed to, because it's at his expense.

There's a light gasp from him as Dextera steals something — what, he doesn't know, the memory dissipating away as he loses grains of sand to someone else, someone decidedly not on his side — and that sense of success is unsettling.

Dextera really does hold his life in his hands right now, and Amos really, really does not like that. And fuck whatever it was he just lost, because his words have Amos trying to push himself off the ground, lunge at Dextera, tear him apart, a quiet fury radiating off of him as all he can do is fall back down, undignified and helpless.

The steady beat of an unrecognizable fear thrums along in his background, in tune with his heart, as he looks back up to meet Dextera's eyes, livid that he can't do anything more.

But that's it. He has no more words for him. There's nothing he can possibly say, just a quiet promise in his gaze — if I ever get my hands on you, you're dead, and he means it. ]