⏳ 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

[zauneyete]

[ In (heh) polar opposition to Vander, there was Silco, who didn't "team up" with the rest in a traditional way. Although he'd offered his touch here and there to those who needed the extra go when the oppressive chill of the castle settled in, but that was because there was a goal here, and while it was frustrating -- infuriating -- that there was no "oracle" to be found, and that it hadn't surfaced meant this was ending up a wild chase for mere kernels of sand.

Creeping silently, his shroud of invisibility kept Silco from mostly getting jumped by the Meridian-aligned bearers, which left him to sneak silently through corridors and explore the different rooms here and there, looking for more sand, to take things, because at least that he could do for the moment until the oracle revealed itself. He had, of course, known Vander was about -- had kept his eyes peeled as he made his silent, invisible paths through the massive castle. If they had crossed paths prior, there would have been no indication, with his invisibility carefully kept up, but he hadn't needed to see his old, once-friend present in the castle to know he was still there.

Sebastian, after all, hadn't come calling for his price to be paid, and of all the people left... Of all of them, it was infuriating that it was a man he once called brother. Of everyone that had been here when they started, either here or in Horos, why couldn't it have been... His thoughts, predictably always turn to Jinx's shard that remained hidden in his quarters in Highstorm -- but the phantom knowledge that it was resting somewhere, and Silco didn't have her here...

There was a reason why he was pursuing sand so aggressively, looking for the oracle so single-mindedly. He had to. It was the only way to bring about an end to all of... this. An end to an existence that dared to be without his daughter, and an end to a collection of worlds that dared to not be Zaun. He'd thought to return to the library, while he had a touch of time, perhaps seek out his demon to see if there was any word on the hourglass, before --

His steps are silent on the fine floors, and he skidded to a halt and took two steps back. He's under his usual cloak of invisibility -- he barely let himself wander the hallways without it -- and that same violent need to destroy resurfaced. With the soft leather shoes he'd taken to wearing, it means his steps are silent, and he's already pulled a knife free from his coat as he made his way in. This time he had more tools, didn't he? This time he wouldn't be asphyxiated on the grounds of the market, and instead --

-- One moment. He looked down at those very old and very familiar fists. He hadn't seen those in ages, had he? Not since the night Vi had stormed the Cannery, and -- ]

Are you still lugging those old things around?

[ He said -- his voice eerily calm, almost casual -- in the same moment that he struck with a knife aimed for his back. ]

[exhound]

[Vander was a damn fool for thinking he could snatch a moment for himself and it would be as simple as that. The tone of this trip had already begun on the wrong foot after that large-scale Communion event. There were bloodthirsty fools on both sides of the divide, he’d come to learn, and that could only spell trouble on the first real moment that put the two factions in true opposition.

And he knew Silco had to be around here somewhere. The man was too opportunistic to let the first chance at nabbing the oracle for Zenith slip through his fingers. Yet there had been no sight of him lingering in the castle halls or conversing with anyone even within the library’s safe haven. (That right there wasn’t too surprising itself; showing up in a hub like that wasn’t his style, not unless he was making it into a statement.) But it all meant that he was keeping out of sight intentionally, and there would be no good at all to come from that.

So he sits up in surprise at the sudden sound of his voice—the motion jerking suddenly with the abrupt blossom of pain in his back—and internally he’s already cursing himself for letting his guard down in this moment, though all he can really do is heave a grunt of pain in reaction.

This is bad, because he’s already at a disadvantage and Silco wouldn’t initiate a strike like this without a plan lending him confidence. Not after the results of their first unexpected clash.

But there was no time to formulate a plan of his own, only the urgent and pressing need to retaliate. So he extends one arm out and swings his whole body around, hoping to catch his assailant with the back of his hand—even as the motion causes the wound in his back to scream anew.]

[zauneyete]

[ Silco had gone for the backstab for a reason. Without the crowds of Highstorm to serve as a witness to the fact that he hadn't struck first, and the advantage of being in this already fraught situation, with tensions heightening... Well, if anyone saw him, there was no problem for a Zenith and a Meridian to be fighting over sand, was there? If it was personal, well. Nobody needed to know that, beyond his Demon.

And he actually did hope that Vander wouldn't get to know that particular secret yet. No need to let the cat out of the bag too soon, but Vander was still stronger than him, and by these days... probably faster too. He'd been out of the game for a lot longer, stuck behind a desk and delegating, and though his time in Horos had honed and sharpened old survival instincts... Silco so often returned to what he was good at. Logistics, numbers, and running an operation, not the...violent side of things.

He needed more stooges, given that most of his power wasn't one for unleashing on just anyone --

A thought that fluttered to life, before it died in the sudden shock of a hit to his side, and he slammed against the table with a grunt. No, he wasn't going to let him get that upper hand -- He pulled the knife out with a twist of his wrist and used the momentum to take a step or two back, just enough to get out of punching range.

He couldn't go invisible again -- this power seemed to work the same as Horos, but that didn't matter. He lashed out, instead, that knife still in his gloved grip -- odd, as Silco had never really worn gloves, even last they fought -- and he aimed it down, at that hand, to try and stab. Perhaps ineffective, but he wasn't about to give him a moment's chance to put those fists on. ]

[exhound]

[Vander had never wanted things between them to go down this violent road over and over again. There had always been regret hanging in his heart for that moment that had first turned two brothers against one another, even with how necessary a strike it had seemed in the moment. But Silco being Silco, could never let it go, no matter how Vander felt about it.

And it didn’t help that Vander sealed the deal on their opposition the moment he took that first swing in Highstorm.

There was the bittersweet satisfaction as his first swing here slammed into his opponent—he tried to make a grab for Silco in that short moment of proximity, but the man was quick and knew better than to stay within his reach for long. Knew even more that he should seize any opportunity to lash out when it presented itself, and that knife of his once more bit into Vander’s flesh, quick and neat along the back of his hand. It drew another pained grunt from him as he withdrew it to his side as he took a step back of his own.

But that other hand of Vander’s was busy too, groping blindly onto the table behind him until it found purchase on one of his old gauntlets—the one with metal now blacked and warped, as if by a great source of heat. He grabbed a sturdy hold on it and swung it forward, letting the thing go and allowing the momentum to carry it through the air toward Silco.

The throw is haphazard—whether it hit him or not mattered less than further driving some distance between the two of them. They couldn’t keep doing this dance every time they crossed paths. It needed to end.

(He knew better than to think it possible, but still—)

Pained and angry:]

Stop this, Silco!

[zauneyete]

[ The gauntlet surely did fly right toward Silco, but it clanged against something almost hard and flung away from him -- his hand outstretched as if he were stopping it, but it clattered to the side, as if it hit something hard -- or you know, a shield spell -- that he'd been holding in reserve. He'd been practicing his abilities, after all. Birdie had certainly given him plenty of practice with his real power, but the others had come with time as well.

He took one look at the metal on the ground, and kicked it behind him, almost as an afterthought. ]

Or you'll what? [ His lips peeled back from his teeth in a sneer. ] Drown me? Kill me? What more could you do to stop me?

[ He had nothing to lose, after all. Jinx wasn't here to protect, so he didn't even have to hold back from lashing out. He didn't have to pretend he wasn't the one who instigated the fight in Highstorm anymore -- he had goaded Vander into striking first for a reason -- and he sure as hell didn't have to worry about the man having any backup from Vi or the Enforcer. Certainly, now that they were gone, it was just...

Just the two of them. And still Vander couldn't see it, could he? That they were all that remained, and he still wanted nothing more than to bring Piltover back? Silco didn't have faith that Vander would have ever aligned with Zenith -- he had no conviction for a dream, after all -- but he could have at least done him the decency of giving him more than pithy begging.

His tone mocking, he couldn't help but add: ] You struck first, Vander. Both before... [ A scoff, and he tapped a finger to his eye. ] And in Highstorm.

Or was that too... much for you. Have you already come up with a story to justify it?

[ Silco had never let a grudge go in his life. ]

[exhound]

[There’s a flash of surprise—almost angry—as the gauntlet collides with an invisible force. So, Silco had that little trick up his sleeve too? Vander knew he wouldn’t be the only one keeping busy during these last few months, and it served as a reminder that he didn’t truly know what Silco could be capable of in a world like this. He needed to be on his guard.

He took a careful step back, then another. Winced as that wound in his back sang a pointed reminder of its presence. He needed to get through this before things got any worse.]

There’s no justifying any of this—this pointless feud.

[The words were both angry and so damn exhausted. What the hell did they have left to fight over with everything gone? Old memories, old mistakes perpetuated over and over again? (He already knew the answer, loathed to acknowledge it—they wound up on different sides of this budding conflict for a reason, after all.)

His wounded hand slid over to rest upon the other gauntlet that remained on the table beside him, though his gaze never left Silco.]

We can do this song and dance over and over, but it’s not going to get us anywhere.

[He knows he may as well be trying to persuade a brick wall, but Vander wouldn’t be Vander if he didn’t at least try.]

[zauneyete]

Big words.

[ A scoff -- nearly spat -- with a tip of his head, and his lip curled upward, the scarred one, that rest underneath the ever-open eye, and he crossed his arms, and tapped a finger against his forearm, before he gestured with his knife, gloved fingers tightened around the knife as he did so, like it was something to punctuate his points. ]

Only offered now of course, that your allies are gone. [ That Jinx was gone -- as always, the thought fluttered to the surface, but Silco was ever controlled -- he wrested the errant thought and pushed it down, like he was drowning it himself. Unwilling to show weakness, especially around his old enemy. ]

And now that I have the upper hand. That was always your way, wasn't it? Once the fight gets too hard? [ He took a step forward, once, then twice. ] Just cower?

[ Another step, he's way too confident, stepping in like this, but there's a goal here today. This isn't senseless violence -- only senseless violence -- and it isn't just revenge. Not with the prize of victory for Zenith as Silco's focus -- an end to all of... this. ]

That's not how this is going to work, Vander.

[ It almost makes him angrier, that Vander's trying to play at being the bigger man, now that he's killed Silco yet again, now that he put Jinx through the trauma of bringing him back, and now he wants to play nice? Now?

Yes, Silco may have goaded him, but Vander hadn't been required to take the bait, had he? Killing Silco was too tempting a prize, to get back at him for his death -- even if it hadn't been... entirely Silco who had killed him. ]

You should know by now, I won't stop until I get what I want. Wasn't that the whole reason you stabbed me in the back?

[ Another step. Still out of punching range, but he's certainly pressing the advantage this time. ]

[exhound]

[He could feel his lips pulling down into a severe frown to match the narrowing of his eyes, despite his best efforts to rein in his temper. This wasn’t going to be a repeat of Highstorm, where he let his anger get the better of him—where he let Silco do what he did best in wielding just the right words and twisting them like a flesh-buried knife.

Not that he had high hopes of this coming to a peaceable resolution. Even setting aside their disastrous last encounter, this was more or less an unofficial battleground between two factions, and they were staring each other down from opposite sides. They didn’t need an old grudge to be the catalyst for a fight, not when the atmosphere in this castle was already growing more tense with each passing day.

Vander held his ground as Silco dared to begin closing the distance between them, step by step. But his hand does seize a firm hold of that remaining battered gauntlet and slide it off of the table.

Of course Silco would see this all in the most uncharitable light. And hell, maybe he wasn’t entirely wrong about it all—pushing for a truce after killing the man and escalating things between them might be absurd, but it needed to be done. It wasn’t cowering to see this situation for what it was.]

And what do you want, in all of this?

[Words exasperated, he waved his empty hand in a broad gesture at their surroundings.]

What does perpetuating this grudge here of all places accomplish for us? There’s bigger things to worry about than trying to one-up each other endlessly.

[His gaze was fixed in a glare upon Silco, watching him carefully and putting as much willpower as he could manage into trying to ignore the way the wound in his back seemed to be screaming for his attention more and more.]

[zauneyete]

What do I want? I'm a part of Zenith, is it so difficult to figure it out?

[ His fist clenched now, gloved hand tightened, and his lips peeled back, something in between a frantic smile and a grimace. Silco's unblinking eye tracked his old rival -- once brother -- and he wondered if he'd never even put it together? The question wound through his head, a question that he couldn't believe had never been found out.

Of course, he did not care about reviving Piltover, and he did not trust the Meridian, but that is not what pushed him further and deeper into that cold water that Zenith welcomed him with. That ever-creeping darkness filled Silco and pushed him over the precipice to destruction. He would have always chosen Zenith, once Yima gave him power, and then a second time, when she gave it to him again. He had chosen the Kenoma a world away -- something few people knew of at this point -- and had seen things more grand and terrifying than his old rival.

It spurred him forward because he had nothing to fear these days. Death? Dissipation? He had a demon in his pocket, and a summoning away. It would apparently hurt, but... Silco had lived a long time, through things more painful than what a demon's pain could bring -- much of it at Vander's own hands -- but not all of it. No, some came from other sources.

Like that gaping, aching feeling that he'd felt since the middle of the month, a loss so great that it had pushed Silco toward greater and more violent destruction. ]

You haven't been paying attention, Vander. While you've been running around, starting bars, and playing friendly, you've missed something.

[ More than one thing. ]

I'm not surprised that you didn't notice. [ Everyone leaves, except us, he'd promised Jinx -- and yet she was gone -- and he'd burn down each world, scour the universe just to have a chance at finding his daughter again. Wasn't that always the difference between he and Vander? Vander always took those steps back when it became difficult, and Silco had always, always given everything for them -- He has not understood Vander's hesitation yet, has not been asked to sacrifice that which he could not -- he had only had her taken.

Amazing, how that changes the trajectory of a person. ]

Don't worry Vander, after today, you won't be able to.

[ He has the gauntlet now, he will have to be careful. Stall for time. For his shield to return. Otherwise... he might not be able to do what he wants to do without calling Sebastian, and he would very much prefer to leave that ace in his hole as long as possible. He slows his closing in, and instead took a step away from the table, to circle him. He had never been a fighter, but he'd had to learn. ]

[exhound]

[Silco being drawn to Zenith made perfect sense. Spiteful and destructive with no care for the bigger picture that destruction would cause, of course he would be gunning to destroy it all rather than salvage what they once had. What they once fought for. He was so in love with the idea of a free Zaun, but Zaun is nothing without its people—and Silco had always been all too willing to trample them underfoot if he thought it served his goals. What Vander had learned from the girls about what Silco had done to the undercity in his absence made it abundantly clear that he’d only grown worse in that regard.

That would always be the fundamental difference between them. And it’s for that reason that it would be a long shot to ever bring this rivalry to an end.

He sighs—more of a pained grunt, really—and slips the gauntlet on.]

If you think all the work I’ve been doing has been in service of keeping my head in the clouds, then all those years spent in my absence must have dulled your memory.

[That was the thing Silco could never reconcile with—that there was a lot to gain in making allies and “playing friendly.” When you only considered other people as pawns, it would only get you so far.

But there’s a point to all of Silco’s bluster, and admittedly, Vander isn’t quite sure exactly what he’s alluding to at first. There isn’t a lot that would get Silco riled up in this way, something that would make him so eager to rub Vander’s face in it. There has been a lot going on in the cities in recent months, but no… No, this has to be something personal.

Shit. Of course this would be about her. That glare of his falters for a just a moment, revealing a glimpse of pained understanding.]

Don’t.

[A single word, clipped and commanding. Don’t bring her into this argument, don’t go prodding at this raw wound. It would only serve to hurt them both, but he knows that Silco is so goddamn spiteful that he’d do it anyway.

Vander follows his motion, steps away from the table as well and inches closer in the process. But he doesn’t raise that armed fist. Just stares him down, the anger back on his face and more severe now.]

But if you’re so keen on threatening me, then I hope you’re ready to back it up.

[Because dragging a missing loved one into their argument is dangerous territory.]

[zauneyete]

[ 'Don't', he says, and Silco feels the vibrant burn of his fury. He can't help it, and it's apparent on his face, the way his lips twitch -- the quick, barely-there baring of his teeth into something almost feral -- the way his eyes dart, as if he's thinking about something not there -- the shard in his rooms in Highstorm, neatly tucked with the remnants of whatever metal, half-formed inventions and artwork Jinx had left, carefully alarmed and kept away from any tampering -- and for a moment, there's not just fury -- something else? -- but he's quick to plaster the holes in his armor, and cover it up.

Don't, Vander says, as if he has any right to memories of Jinx. He'd explained it to her plenty of times, how Vander wasn't the man they all thought that he was. For all his high-minded words, the promises of "playing nice" with their betters that looked down their noses at them and saw only dirty little specks of waste, only good enough to work in their mines and labor for them to sip their fancy drinks, or make themselves richer -- little more. No, being quiet, and meek, "causing no trouble" while the Enforcers refused to breathe their air, and was worth more than their freedom.

Silco hated Vander. Not just because of what was done to him, but because he represented something deeply wrong in philosophy. He could say that the people were worth so much more -- perhaps he had? -- but what did that matter, if they never moved forward? Never gained independence? Silco could have tasted it, how close they were, but now there was nothing, and he didn't care. The promise of Meridian was to bring all of Runeterra back, down to the Pilties, and he would never give them such an honor. ]

Did you know that last time, I had side effects from the tree? [ He asked, his tone sharp, dangerous. ] I'm more dangerous than you give me credit for.

[ Or perhaps that was a delusion. Had Vander not tried to snuff his life out for fear of what he would do? Had he not had to keep to shadows and live in an abandoned canning factory because he was dangerous, while Vander remained a pillar of the community?

He doesn't tell him that he's wrong -- he's listened to only Caitlyn and Vi, after all. Not Sevika, or Jinx, or the people who were thriving in this new Zaun, a city of pure freedom and excess. Instead -- ]

You say 'don't' as if you have any rights to make demands, Vander. I'm taking what I'm due, that's all.

[ He doesn't say: I'm taking away my daughter, it's too close, to raw and too open. Only Kaeya and Sebastian knew about that, and Silco didn't want to speak it into existence, let other people know there was a raw and gaping wound left from his daughter's absence.

He instead felt at the edges of his shield spell, intending to use that to block Vander's metal fists -- old relics of a time from when they were boys, when they hadn't fostered so much animosity between them -- and when he could feel the edges of the spell return to him, sufficient power to keep him from getting strangled in a random room in the Scorching Isles, he slipped forward, about as fast as a near-50-year-old could move. Speed was not something he was gifted with. ]

[exhound]

[Silco’s anger is an old, familiar thing by now. There’s a certain barely-restrained intensity to it when it creeps into something personal—and when it comes to the two of them, it almost always was personal—that Vander can recognize in those twitches of his expression. He was bound to be furious after their last confrontation, that was expected and… hell, even understandable, even if he had brought that fate upon himself by taunting him. But there’s another layer to it here that sets a feeling of unease in Vander’s chest.

If this is about the girl, he can venture a guess. His old enemy couldn’t tolerate any common ground between them, not anymore. And for something so personal as a shared connection with a daughter? No wonder he’s so damn furious. He’s always been unbelievably childish; if he couldn’t have something all to himself, he would throw a fit until he got his way. It’s no wonder Jinx had looked and Vander with such fury in her eyes the last time they stood face-to-face. He can only imagine what insipid stories Silco had been filling her head with.

He doesn’t doubt Silco has more tricks up his sleeve than Vander could possibly guess. He’s picked up all manner of tricks on his own as time marched on here in this new world, so of course someone as industrious and opportunistic as Silco would have found ways to even the playing field. He isn’t like to reveal them, whatever they may be, until the right moment. He could try to bait him to tip his hand, but… no, he’s far too careful for that.]

Try me, then, if you’re so confident.

[So he’ll just have to play it by ear, put his money on being quick enough to react. And maybe if he’s lucky, that barely restrained anger pushing Silco forward will push him towards being sloppy.

Vander’s moving forward the moment Silco begins closing that distance in earnest, feet quick on the cold stone floor and lowering himself slightly for a head-on charge. There’s no swing of a metal fist just yet, but his unarmed hand does go swinging toward him as he flies forth in an attempt to tackle.]

[zauneyete]

[ Though there was an invitation to attack, Silco's feet are quick and confident. He hadn't ever been a brawler, but they'd both been in plenty of scraps in their youth, and then there was the wealth of experience that dealing with his time in Horos and here combined. He is not a fighter, never will be a fighter, but he will indulge in the violence necessary to take what is his. Whether Vander liked it or not, whether he accepted it or not didn't matter, Jinx was not his daughter, in his mind, never had been, because Powder was as dead as the rest of her family had been. Just like Silco had been reborn from the water, so had she.

Did it help? He remembers her asking Kaeya, deep within Kowloon. When the shared promise of drowning hadn't --

No. It had helped. It couldn't have not, and he would not let a moment of questioning, a moment of uncertainty haunt him. The past always haunted them. Eternally.

He watched with an unblinking eye as Vander didn't even allow him the right to charge again. His motions are obvious -- because Vander had the bulk and strength to do whatever he wished -- but Silco didn't mind that. He wanted to be close, but he didn't want to be tackled. No hands on his throat, choking the life out of him this time. He won't allow it.

His knife is fast, and he lashed out with it, for Vander's hand -- wrist -- whatever -- It's meant to distract, and with a wary eye on the fist, a momentary flick, to watch for it, before he looks at what he really wants. It's not Vander's death, or dissipation. Not right now. There are greater plans in the works for that. No, what he wants --

He can see it. The flicker of shard and memory. He wants -- no, needs -- to take it.

His fingers reach out, almost of their own accord, to try and grasp for it. ]

[exhound]

[Vander had never wanted this. A familiar scene, playing out again and again like an endless echo. The two of them swinging and swiping at each other, further hammering in the point that these differences that had grown between them have become more and more irreconcilable. A compounding of anger every time they were driven to butt heads, creating a dense and unspeakable thing.

Even now, even after they had both taken each other’s life once before thanks to the quirk of their present circumstance, Vander still felt that old pang of guilt at seeing that hatred in Silco’s eyes and feeling a reflection of it burning within his own chest. He wishes there was another way. But Silco always had to go and make everything so. damn. hard.

It doesn’t help that he’s taking family and turning into something possessive to further fuel their feud. But Vander can be possessive too, and it’s that driving his charge forward, giving him the presence of mind to shift his footing to accommodate the swing of that knife. The blade goes tearing against his sleeve, the arc just barely wide of his hand—but Vander realizes the opportunity in that proximity, free hand darting out to attempt to seize Silco by the wrist instead. So focused on his own movement that he hardly registers Silco’s other hand darting out toward his chest until fingers brush against the mirror-like reflection his Shard has become in this place.

And then there’s the odd sensation of something being at the forefront of his mind and then… suddenly gone.]

[zauneyete]

[ Vander's hand almost on his wrist is almost... ignorable? Silco barely even noticed. Oh, well, he would, but more important was what his fingers held, when he gripped that shard of memory -- something so precious and important -- and ripped it out from that shard. He hoped it would hold -- things in these realms always seemed so transient -- but as soon as his fingers closed around the memories of Jinx, he felt something settle. Not the burning rage -- he hated Vander so fervently for what he'd done to him, hated him with a rage that had long exceeded the point of no return.

That was a decision Vander had to deal with, a betrayal that had sent Silco careening off the cliff toward somewhere in between hate and madness -- twisted him into something so spiteful and angry that he couldn't see anything else. It made him see red, and Silco had long accepted that his hate was something he could pay nearly any price to indulge. Only one person in any existence could have asked him to turn away, and he'd just swiped the memories of her.

Silco's fast, his blade twisted in his hand, to threaten the hand coming toward him, before he stepped back, his feet quick.

He didn't need to kill Vander right now. No, he had plans, didn't he? No murder today, isn't that a gift? He skittered out of range, his fingers clasped memory of Jinx in his hands -- young Jinx, before she'd found Silco, and there's a moment, brief and...

He stared at the memories in his hand for a long moment -- Vander could probably try and rush him if he wanted -- his thumb on the shard, almost as if he wondered if he could reach out and -- No, his daughter isn't here, and no railing against the world itself will fix this. No, the only answer is to burn it down, and his fingers crushed the memory in his fingers, to turn it to sand in his fist, she may be only memory, but she's also only his memory. Vander didn't deserve her, he thought. ]

[exhound]

[Whatever Silco did, it’s clearly thrown Vander off his groove. The same emotions propelling him forward are there, but they feel… unanchored. Like there is a purpose to them, but it’s somehow out of reach. There had been a reason they were fighting once more—as if they ever need a reason, these days—but trying to dig for it is like trying to summon a word that’s on the tip of his tongue, but just out of mind.

It’s distracting enough that it’s all he can do to yank his hand back from that next knife swipe, and it lets Silco put some distance between them just as quickly. Vander’s hand reaches up to his Shard, brows furrowing as he stares Silco down and tries to puzzle out exactly what it is he had taken from him.

He can almost, almost see what that little shard of crystal in Silco’s hand represents. Knows it’s important, knows he can’t let it stay in his grasp. So in that long moment Vander does rush forward, freehand making a grab for it—but it’s too late. It’s reduced to sand as quickly as his feet can move him, an odd feeling of finality in it that hangs heavy in his chest at the sight of it. Vander still tries to make a grab for Silco, wherever he can—but there’s no swing of his other fist. Not yet.

There’s anger in his expression, but his voice mainly carries disbelief.]

What have you done?

[zauneyete]

[ Silco's eyes flicked to Vander, even as those too-precious memories of Jinx were crushed in his fist, and his lips peeled back in annoyance when Vander tried to reach for him. 'How dare he?' was clear in his expression, and he sneered, stepping out of the way with quick, silent feet. He should run. It would be for the best, and then he could get away and slip into the cover of nothingness so quickly that Vander wouldn't know what happened to him.

He should ignore him, and just do that.

But Silco was... never going to try to get in the last word, or rub salt in a wound. ]

Oh, you don't remember? [ He asked, his hand over his mouth, like there was a joke to be made. He's trying to move, trying to escape or at least get near the door. Try, of course, is the key word. Even so, when he tried to form words, there was something... indiscernible there. A touch mad, perhaps even desperate. Taking memories of Jinx won't bring her back, the sinister reminder at the back of his mind is quick to point out, but even so... ]

I took what is mine.

[ Lips peeled back into a snarl, he said it like it should be obvious. ]

[exhound]

[All of his ire is very swiftly being replaced with a low thrum of panic. He can’t remember. Can’t remember what? He doesn’t know, but he knows it’s important, knows it by the smug and sneering response of Silco, knows it by how willing he is to drag out this moment to taunt him with it.

And, perhaps more importantly, he knows that there is nothing to be done about it. Crushed to grains of sand and scattered without fanfare.

Vander of course tries to give chase. He can’t let this go, but Silco does has a swiftness on his side that’s further accentuated by the injury he’d dealt Vander here at the start, wearing down on him. He follows, does try for a swing this time, but it goes wide and he has to catch himself on the edge of the table they’d been dancing around. The doorway is there just behind him, and Vander knows that he’s screwed up by letting him get this far.]

You damn, selfish fool.

[zauneyete]

[ Silco's fast, and his heart is pounding, and he knows he should be focused on escaping, on getting out of here before Vander reaches out with his hands and catches him. He can't get close to the man, not without being dissipated, and it's not worth it, when he'd already taken his memories of Jinx -- not something he'd intended, but...

But Silco had reached out to take them anyway. As soon as he'd seen them, he'd known, but it will all be for nothing, if he doesn't get out with his prize of stolen memories, and where he can get to safety.

But he also cannot help but sneer at Vander, another two steps back toward the door. He stared at him, for a long moment, a narrowing of a single eye. ]

You know so little.

[ He won't explain it. Not to him. He doesn't deserve that.

Silco took one step back, and then another, before he was far enough that he vanish from sight, slinking off into the shadows. ]