⏳ 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

[baltimores]

[ Neither of them knows what hit it.

Objectively, Amos knows. He'd locked eyes with Hayame, a silent, desperate plea, and she's delivering. More than he ever could have imagined; he didn't know what he was asking for — anything but what was happening to him in that moment — and he's gotten it.

More than it. Amos is left shocked, breathless as he coughs, suddenly freed. It's all he can do but push himself up to a sitting position, staring at the new scene down the hall.

Because the doppelganger didn't know what hit it, either; it had only had eyes for Amos, the opportunity to take all of his sand and leave him there, and it had been succeeding right before a half ton had slammed herself into it. The wind leaves its body. There are broken ribs, a battered and bruised torso, a leg that feels like it's screaming at it as it's unable to stand — both because it can't put weight on it at the moment to begin with, and because Hayame is right on top of it.

And it, of course, has never had the luxury of fighting a jinba before. Doesn't even know where to begin, so in a rush, it makes the two of them weightless — offering it some relief as they float up into the air, giving it a chance to yell in pain before it's converted into a snarl as it seeks to grab whatever it can of hers and bend it the wrong way. Her front legs. Her arms. Her neck. Something as a hot rage crashes over its face in violent waves, eyes furious and murderous. No time for a biting remark, kill being the only thing on its mind.

And Amos gets that, because it's him, and he would do the same thing in its place — it's just going to take him a couple of extra precious seconds to get down the hall to where they are... ]

[warmare]

[Once, Hayame had prided herself on being more “human” than the bestial members of her kind, reduced to animals and spear fodder by the sickly simple act of flensing off the arms at the shoulder. She used the weapons that humans did, she did not fight with desperate tooth and nail and hoof and kicks like the increasingly dwindling population of jinba born free in the deep mountains. She’d been cold and collected and precise-

But it wasn’t just her icy doppelgängers that had died since she left the only world that made sense to her. Every month spent in a place that she continued to reject, amongst people she largely felt alienated from, encountering magic and happening beyond the scope of what she’d always imagined possible… the woman who’d been able to conceal her true nature had been stripped away time and time again to reveal the worst of her beneath. Before they had been enslaved, before humans realized the power they held last of numbers and tools, jinba had been worshipped as gods, as powerful forces of nature-

And that’s what slams into the copy of Amos now. Bones crack, hooves slip on the slick cold of of them hall floor, and they go skidding, tumbling over the ice in a knot of limbs and muscle and snarling viciousness. Just her weight is enough to injure or kill when brought to bear, either in an intentional kick or an accidental fall, and so on the ground, even frosted, the advantage is overwhelmingly hers, it might be considered pathetic for a human to try, even one as physically tough as Amos-

And then they’re weightless. The split second of confusion as her world turns tipsy turvy is enough for the doppelgänger to find purchase on her thrash of limbs and grappling arms. She feels a wrench, a finger bends and snaps, it goes for a more delicate foreleg-

No, there was no time nor mind for words in the important, frantic first moments, the struggle for the upper hand in a situation whether both parties wanted to kill the other. If a part of her thought to save that honor for Amos himself, it would have to bank on hope… because Hayame can’t find the real Amos in the tumble through the air and she also doesn’t hold back. A hand finds purchase and pushes against a forehead, slamming with the heel of her damaged hand, her legs flail to keep it from finding a space close enough to brace and twist, and the sharp, sharp teeth in her mouth that don’t seem to match well with either human or equine features…

Those dig in and rip, coming away with a gush of blood and the tattered scraps of an ear.]

[baltimores]

[ Weightless blood beads out into the air, red droplets forming and hovering between, around them as the doppelganger yells in pain and anger. It ignores the wound at the side of its head, the way it has just lost a piece of functionality, letting the blood flow in favour of scrambling to find purchase at Hayame's neck, attempt to crush her windpipe. She's flailing too much, but it's able to grab at her shoulder, squeeze down on it with strength hard enough to bruise—

It's sent crashing to the ground, Amos having rushed over and using his own gravity magic to overpower its while it was distracted. Its grip means Hayame gets dragged down too, though Amos was trying — while he still had the focus, the wherewithal — to bring her down more gently, to not break anything. Her prowess on the ground is obvious, so that's where she needs to be; wouldn't do any good if her legs got broken on the way back down, though.

But his doppelganger? Yeah he doesn't give a fuck, its blood splattering against the ground along with it as Amos leaps onto its prone body, cocks back his fist to punch it in the face with as much strength as he has. The skin of his hand splits open against the doppelganger's teeth, but that's hardly a concern as he draws back his fist a second time—

And gets forcibly torn off for his trouble, doppelganger spitting blood as it reaches out with a hand to dig into his bicep, wrench him off of its body, throw him to the side, into a stray mirror.

With its back very much towards Hayame. ]

[warmare]

[The fact that gravity has betrayed her not once, but twice now, is something that Hayame will have to try and understand later. Now, there is only action, with no room for thought. Rather, when the weightlessness reverses and the world drops out from under her (over her?) again, there is only reacting, dragged down faster than Amos' consideration would have handled her by the weight and tug of his icy copy.

The downside to being a half ton of terrifying muscle and sinew was how devastating a leg injury could be to a woman with four instead of two. She has just enough time to pull them in tight to her belly, to twist more onto her side, but then she's hit the ground a few feet from the doppelganger and Amos- Amos is back in her field of view. He must have done this somehow, brought them back down-

He punches himself in the face, and she almost swallows the bite of flesh in her mouth on impact. Instead, the air is forced out of both of her sets of lungs, and the bit of ear goes spat across the ice before a ragged, heavy inhale, scrabbling for purchase on the ice, haul herself up, close the distance...

Amos hits a frozen mirror, the sound of it shattering is too loud.

And though the sound of Hayame rearing up behind his doppelganger is near silent in comparison... the sound of her hooves making contact with its skull are not. A sick cracking sound echoes through the hall as she balances briefly on two back legs to lash out with fore, her human arms wide for balance as she looms over nine, ten feet tall... and then follows the crumple of the body to the ground by crashing heavy back on all fours along with it. On it. Trampling.

Rage and remembered shames unanswered for clouding up her vision, she doesn't show signs of stopping, no matter how many sick squelching sounds or fracturing snaps follow the first fatal blow. Even as the crimson splattering all over the floor comes to be replaced by bits of ice and slushy ice water from its "veins", the mirror image's true, frozen nature returning as the magic fades...]

[baltimores]

[ His doppelganger is still twitching when Amos pushes himself back up, definitely worse for the wear but still okay, all things considered.

And Hayame is right to keep going, even if it may be overkill. Amos can see the signs on his doppelganger's body — fingers elongated into claws; the fact that it's still breathing, still alive. He's experienced this before, just on... himself, a world ago when Gen had had to relentlessly bash his head in. He'd been thankful for it then.

He's thankful for it now as his doppelganger's head is obliterated into nothing. No chance for survival, not even with a supernatural defence mechanism in his — and its — back pocket.

The doppelganger's chest stills. Its everything stills. It's nothing.

With a grunt, Amos hauls himself back up all the way. ]

Thanks.

[ He means it, too; she helped save his ass there. He's not the type to consider debts or anything like that, it's just one person helping another, and this time he got to be on the receiving end. It's just what happens sometimes. He takes a couple of steps forward before he remembers where they are. What they're doing. Not fighting doppelgangers, but making their way to the end to distribute their sand. To do what's really important.

He stops, inhaling deeply, a hand involuntarily moving to his side. There's probably a rib or two fucked up pretty bad there.

Another beat, and. ]

What now?

[ Now that their common enemy is over and done with, the thing that would attack them without reason... what do they do? ]

[warmare]

[Eventually, the thing stops moving. The doppelgänger that had worn Amos’ voice and used his voice is nothing now but cracked ice and cold, cold water under her bloody hooves, and Hayame’s eyes finally refocus, find the next and nearest threat-

Which is Amos, technically, standing there bruised and cracked while she stands atop his look-a-like’s improptu grave, lungs heaving with it’s blood smeared over her lips and a finger snapped back all wrong on her bow hand.

But she’d just proven that she was far deadly enough without handicapping herself with the weapons of civilized man. Belatedly, instead of the usual “you do not need to thank me”, or “I did not ask for your thanks”-]

… You are welcome.

[He was a Zenith. She had just potentially saved his life, or at least his dignity, and so… he should thank her. He was in her debt now.

Movement returns, wincing herself as she straightens from the feral stance of a trample and spits more blood from her mouth, wiping the rest with the back of the broken hand before she reaches down, seizes the finger… and, no, it’s definitely broken, not dislocated. She pulls a strip of cloth used for tying her barrel from the pouch at her waist and begins splinting it makeshift instead, watching Amos all the while.

She doesn’t want to answer the question.

His hand had been so warm, that day. What a shame, she’d thought… that she should be on opposite sides of one of the few people she’d met in this place that she thought she might get on well with. Understand, even, in a world where she felt no one truly did. (If she hadn’t been sure before… she was sure now. “Be grateful”… As if they should be grateful-]

… I fought my double today, in the Hall of Mirrors. I didn’t see anyone else.

[She says it as if reporting to a superior, her stormy gaze even on his across the ice.]

It was troublesome to kill, but I managed it. No [TIME] changed hands.

[Mercy, kindness, or laziness had never motivated her before. So what is it now… that prevents her from acting… ? From proposing what it is she does now… ?

Hayame does not know.]

[baltimores]

[ He watches her cautiously, respects the distance between them as she bandages herself up. It's in his instincts to come over and help, but she's got it. She can take care of herself. And they are on opposite sides here... Any wrong move from either of them and this will likely turn into something worse.

She could crush him, easily.

He could also disable her by sending her back into the air, easily.

It's an effective impasse, one that lets them both behave in the moment. Amos thinks he can feel her searching him, probing him for any weakness the same as he's doing to her, only his had been announced, and he doesn't know what to do about that. He doesn't let people know about that particular part of his past, and now someone on the other side knows. Has picked up enough.

He inclines his chin as she relays what she's been through to him. Alright. ]

That's probably good, then.

[ Is it? They're on different sides. ]

We can maybe keep it that way.

[ He's battered and bruised. He's tired. He's wary. He doesn't think he wants to do this, doesn't want to mindlessly leap in and try to drain her life force.

Still, he keeps his muscles tensed, ready. And respects their distance.

Ball's back in her court. ]

[warmare]

[She had not considered Amos much of a threat, before. Not out of any sense of looking down on him- he was obviously a strong man, and against fellow humans, she imagined he would be fearsome on the battlefield. She was simply not used to viewing non-jinba, no matter how physically gifted or battle-honed, as true opponents. But with the new knowledge of his control over gravity... It would complicate things. She isn't as sure anymore. Her eyes linger on his face, on his body... sizing him up again in this new light, taking into account his injuries, and on alert for any signs of muscles bunching to lunge.

Yet they are... not moving. Not attacking. Not breaking the shaky peace between them. And the longer the moment goes on... the less Hayame wants to. She can get [TIME] from someone else, if she needs it. With this one, she would rather... (What a shame.) Until the moment came when it was unavoidable... the idea of breaking one of the only connections she had felt with someone who shared a part of her past she guarded so viciously...

And now, she has seen something of his. Surely, she thinks, he must be like her, keeping that part of his life secret out of distaste for the looks, the useless reactions, the changes in how one was viewed that made one's skin crawl, but she... it is too late now to pretend she hadn't heard it. Her reaction had been too feral, too immediate and hands-on, to pretend now that she herself didn't know of what sorts of things happened to children who were owned. For her, it had been a threat, a constant waiting in the wings to be used if she slipped up, failed, or disappointed, but she had seen it all around her, and-

It is understanding in her eyes. Not pity, scorn, disgust, or sympathy. Just understanding.]

I think we can.

[She can maintain that lie. She only met her own doppelganger. The injuries came from that. It's easy enough. What isn't easy... is wanting to say something about what she has learned, and not knowing how.]

Amos...

[How did one speak of it, when there was no pollen in the air- ? Should she reassure him that his secret was safe with her? Should she offer another deal, that neither should speak of what they had learned here? Her, that he had things to be grateful for, and he, that she was capable of being the beast that humans condemned her kind as?

She doesn't know, and his name lingers in the cold air between them as a puff of icy breath.]

1/2, cw reference to suicidal thoughts

[baltimores]

[ I think we can.

That's it, then. That should be the end of it. Amos' body slackens. His shoulders slump, he exhales a breath he hadn't been aware he'd been holding. They don't gotta do anything else here. They can just be on their separate ways.

He's ignoring that look in her eyes, ignoring that confirmation that she knows — and then she says his name, trails off, and he turns his head. Looks away. Dips his gaze, stares at some random spot on the ground not even between them without even really seeing it.

It isn't something people are supposed to know. He's brought it up once or twice in his life, if only to make a point to someone else who needed to understand what dangers were out there. Why kids needed to be protected. Nobody ever has a response. There isn't supposed to be one. There's nothing that can take it back or fix it or anything. It will always be a part of him, it will always be the main thing that shaped him into who he is today, and he has no choice but to live with that.

Far too much time passes. ]

It happened. [ He still isn't looking at her. There's a broken quality to his voice; he coughs, rough around the edges but sturdier when he speaks again. ] It's over with. Can't do anything about it now.

[ If he'd had to stay in his past, he would have killed himself a long time ago. ]

[baltimores]

[ He lifts his head again, turns to look back up at her. Meet her eye. ]

All we got is to keep moving forward. So we do that.

[ Drop it, but also, real words of advice. For him. For her. She gets him on a level more than most probably will here, so that's his parting gift for her now, because if anyone's going to understand him, it'll probably be her. ]

cw: more child sa stuff

[warmare]

[Time passes, and Hayame makes no motion and gives no word to hurry it along. She won't, or can't. There is something lodged deep in her throat that is heavy and unpleasant. Something that she shamefully knew had never been enough in her world to make her act against the very same treatment he had suffered. And even if she had mercy enough to acknowledge that she had been but a child struggling to avoid that very same fate, the threat of life as an armless broodmare, mount, or "companion" constantly held over her head to ward off failure or betrayal...

She can not say anything further until he speaks. His doppelgänger's blood is still smeared on her lips like a beast's attempt at a woman's beauty. And she hates it, hates that every time she feels that rare, strange desire to reach out, to- to connect, or... comfort...

She fails. She fears she sees in his face and eyes that she has done more harm than good. Perhaps she should just have kept her mouth shut, let him believe that she believed what he'd told her that day at the restaurant, that he'd only been used for thug shit. From her own experiences... She was supposed to know better. She was supposed to have been taught better. Like how when the stable master had flensed Toshifuji's arms from her shoulders. Like when she'd seen what happened to Kohibari every time the lord waiting to buy him visited, little tricks and tastes to keep the man interested long enough to raise the boy to his sale date.

It happened. It's over with. Can't do anything about it now.]

I know.

[She knows. She just- She simply wanted him to know something, and yet the words don't come out the way she wanted them to. Her lips twist with frustration, her fingers curl into impotent fists, forcing a hiss of pain as the broken digit moves with it, but she has to finish it despite.]

I simply meant that-

[What? (What did "friends" do? If she were even going to half believe that-)]

... That is all I will say. I fought my own clone from the ice. It is the only thing that happened.

[She repeats it, but in a far different tone, with far different meaning. ... No one else needed to know what she had seen. Let alone someone who wouldn't understand.]

[baltimores]

[ All he sees is his equal.

He comes from a different time, a different world. The engineer he had once followed, protected, tried to emulate had been a Belter, considered low class, expendable, nothing by higher powers; a woman, and that had never been held against her by any society he was aware of. She was highly competent, fiercely intelligent, and only ever wanted to do what was right, and so Amos had followed her without question.

Hayame is not Naomi. Naomi would not kill; Naomi wasn't physically capable of fighting like that, anyway. She didn't like blood. She didn't like violence. She did what she could to avoid it, and so Amos would take up that mantle for her.

Hayame is his equal. It's why he can look at her so evenly now, speak to her so frankly. Everything else gets stuffed back in its box, buried back underneath his consciousness but for the little part of him that will always be aware, and brush the rest of it off.

And he thinks she gets that, because she doesn't fight it. She simply accepts it, because there's nothing else she can do when it comes to this. They're walking an awkward truce here, something deeper than the fight that surrounds this world, and he doesn't want to have to think about it any more than he already is. ]

Alright.

[ That's it. The emotion is gone from his voice, from his face, from his everything. I accept your offer. And then they're good.

... Except. A little spark of something showing through, a brief opening where he can pay attention to something else. The light catches his eyes; he tilts his head just barely in question. ]

You okay?

[ With a nod towards her hand, because that hiss of pain wasn't lost on him. There's being sore all over, battered and bruised and breathing might hurt for a little bit there, and then there's the minor discomfort of an injured digit which you use without even thinking about it, and it's easier to focus on the physical over literally anything else that could come up here, so he will. ]

[warmare]

[Hayame has fought all her life. But there are thing that cannot be fought. You cannot fight things that have already happened, only carry chips on shoulders into the future. You cannot fight against an entire system stacked against you, only struggle to be sure that you succeeded as much as was possible within it. So even though it's not alright... What happened to him, what happened to her-

Neither of them can do anything about it now but swallow it down deep and lock it away.

She didn't expect him to do anything but accept her offer and go. But he asks about her finger. For a moment, she does not respond, just staring at him over the soft glow of the ice... before she reaches up to use the back of that hand to wipe at the blood on her lips, careful not to move the broken digit this time.]

- It's not my draw hand. I'll make do.

[She could still hold her bow with four fingers if need be. And if it wouldn't mend properly... There were healers she could go to, if she just stomached her distaste for feeling other people's magic and energy flowing into her body, forcing it to move to their whims. ... She's sure Zenith has them, too, those sorts of people. Even so...]

... And you?

[baltimores]

I'm fine.

[ He can reciprocate tone, sentiment. He doesn't know if he'd call himself okay, but that's hardly what matters here. He just is. And he can walk, and he can still throw a punch, and he's still alive, so he can make do, same as her.

It's not like there's anything they can really do for each other anyway.

Amos hesitates a moment longer before tilting his head over his shoulder, indicating behind him. ]

I'm gonna head back out there. [ He'd been scouting, is all — but he also feels a little fractured now. A little too exposed to be making any big life decisions, which is what will be waiting for him at the end of the hall. ] If that works for you.

[ If their business here is settled.

... And fuck, he hopes it is. ]

[warmare]

[She isn’t foolish enough to take him at his word. He is fine, surely, in the way that she is fine. In the way that warriors who do not wish to reveal their actual injuries are fine. They can still fight, kick, and struggle, and so…

They are fine. Neither of them are healers anyway. … It wouldn’t matter anyway if they weren’t.

But the moment is there… and then it passes. He says he is going… and she nods, understanding.]

Very well.

[It worked for her. As long as he served that woman Yima, she could not wish him good luck, or even particularly well, but. She’d still done what she had. Saved him. Because… of things and similarities not worth dwelling on. So now… she will wait for him to leave, collect herself… and then continue onwards.

There is one last,]

Goodbye, Amos.

[But their business is settled.]

wraps this up...!

[baltimores]

[ It might be gratitude. For her help, for her... understanding. Maybe. If that's what it's called. She knows enough to drop things, to let things be, to let him go after this. No shock or apologies or demands for him to stay or any of that bullshit. She just lets him go.

So he nods in thanks. They're all good here, in a way he wouldn't have expected. Squared with one another. Even. Accepting of it.

It's the best possible outcome he could have hoped for.

Something on his skin still crawls at the thought of it, and he does his best to tamp that feeling down. Does enough to look her in the eye, at least, knowing meeting knowing. ]

I'll see you around.

[ And he trusts her enough to turn his back to her as he takes his leave. ]