abraxaslogs | EVENT #3: AN EXECUTION OF SORTS

Entry tags:

EVENT #3: AN EXECUTION OF SORTS

THE EXECUTION

As if performing a vicious mockery for what should be a somber day, the sun shines brightly in the sky. The rays of sun catch the iron brackets that hold up the gallows that have been erected overnight for the occasion, the gentle breeze causing the noose to swing ominously. Public executions do not happen frequently in Thorne, so a crowd gathers in strained anticipation of the grim sentence.

The welcome guests, who have up until this point been free to come and go within the confines of the castle, have been mandated to view the execution. It is meant to serve both as an example of Thorne’s power as well as a lesson to those who might think to try the same. The courtyard, which was buzzing with quiet murmurs, turns silent as Ambrose strides up the wooden steps of the gallows, flanked by two guards and a haggard-looking Jonathan Sims, arms bound behind him. As the guards march their charge to the trapdoor that will serve as executioner and position the noose around his neck, Ambrose turns to address the crowd that has gathered- willfully or not.

“Citizens of Thorne, our esteemed welcomed guests, it is with disappointment and a heavy heart that we’ve gathered to see to the execution of one of the very guests we sought aid from in our time of need. In a selfish and distrustful act, I was attacked, an action I cannot abide.”

He turns halfway toward his charge. “Jonathan Sims, you are charged with assault and intention of lethal harm. The punishment is to be hanged by the neck until you are dead. May the gods have mercy on your soul.”

Ambrose raises his arm to signal the executioner to pull the lever to release the trapdoor beneath Jon’s feet, steely expression locked on the prisoner’s face one last time.

MEANWHILE

Several miles away, atop a hill in the forest, two figures meet between portals. Oliver, tall and lithe, steps out to stand next to a petite waif of a woman who looks at him with a familiar smile. Her voice is lilting like a songbird’s when she speaks up, turning her gaze back over the city.

“Find out anything good?”

He hums softly, his hands clasped behind his back. “Two dozen prisoners, give or take. The one I met was very grateful for our assistance.”

“That’s good. Perhaps her gratitude will endear our cause to them.”

With a nod, he takes a deep breath and then sighs. “It’s time, Elizabeth,” he says, lifting one hand to open a new portal.

She nods and raises her arms above her head, eyes closing in concentration. Her arms begin to glow green while the grass around her begins to ripple in rings. The very ground seems to surge with power that radiates outward from her, and it isn’t long before the castle and the town are engulfed in a heavy air of intense magic. It courses from her in shockwaves.

Satisfied, Oliver steps through the portal.

In the wake of the magic flood, the walls of the dungeons seem to shudder for a long moment, and the doors suddenly clink open. No guards come rushing in to shut them, and in fact, all ambient noise in the dungeons seems to stop as the whole of the people of Thorne freeze in place. The hall becomes lit by daylight as a portal opens at the end of it, showing them the crowd of welcomed guests and Jon alone on the platform.

In the portal, alone stands Oliver, hand offered to the prisoners in welcome. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes, though this seems to be by nature rather than intention.

“Please come with me.”

CHOICES

Everything is happening quickly.

Once through the portal to the execution yard there's a moment of chaos and confusion at the sudden arrivals and then it stops. Everything and everyone has stopped, save for the guests, the prisoners, and the two mages who have come to their aid. Guards freeze in place. The attended mages are still as statues. Banners lifted by the wind remain where they are and even the noose hanging from the gallows stills.

"Time for them is halted." Oliver addresses the assembled, his voice projected to be heard but his tone calm. "It will remain so for one hour, no more. An hour is all you have to make your choices. Remain here in Thorne, or take a portal to either Solvunn or the Free Cities. The portals cannot be traced by the Thorean authorities, so no need to fear them giving chase.”

Elizabeth emerges from a portal behind him, which closes as she enters the yard. They both raise an arm and two white circles spread through the air, showing new towns in the distance on the other side. There is an ethereal glow around them.

“The Free Cities are martially powerful and seek to destroy the Singularity,” Oliver narrates, gesturing at one of the portals. “Solvunn is reclusive and claims neutrality, both in politics and in regard to the Singularity. I advise that you think hard about your choice. Travel between cities is not exactly easy."

He turns back to the crowd with an almost apologetic smile. “I'm sorry you don't have more time to make this decision. We’ll meet again.”

Opening a third portal with the wave of her arm, Elizabeth, who has not spoken a word, gives the group a wink and leaves with Oliver. Their portal closes behind them, leaving everyone to begin making moves.

Now is the time to make serious choices. Two portals stand in the courtyard, one courtesy of Oliver and one of Elizabeth. The Free Cities and Thorne are enemies, Solvunn watching both to see where the cards end up falling. None trust one another, none work with one another beyond trade through middle-men in Solvunn. The clock is ticking.

Someone should probably get Jon out of that noose.

Threaded | Flat

The portal closes and she's left alone in a corner of the dungeon. She's not an expert at navigating this place, but as long as she's quiet, low and quick, she thinks she can make it to her cellmates.

She can be about two and a half of those things right now.

She's not sure what Oliver's plan is, but after walking through the portal, she at least understands the 'how'.

So Relena ventures out, slowly making her way through the passages in a crouched position, relying on the walls she's hugging to keep upright though she falls half into a crawl through most of her journey. It's feels like forever and she's still completely exhausted, but she's determined to get herself there before she loses all energy again. She only has 'soon' to work with here, so she's hoping that's at least enough time to get them on board with what's about to happen... whatever that might be.

She only lets herself give out when she's got her shoulder against a familiar cell. She sits on the ground and reaches a hand through, waving it around. She speaks in a harsh whisper.

"Himeka, Estinien. You have to get ready. Now. And quietly."

When they come to get Jon in the early morning, he's waiting, awake but quiet, sitting on the edge of his bunk. He just nods to his cellmates as he rises, and goes with the guards without argument. He hopes to see Martin one more time, but they take him in the wrong direction, through a door at the end of the corridor.

“That's not necessary,” he says in nervous irritation when they grab his arms to tie him. He doesn't pull away, but they still shove him hard against the wall, one boot jamming against the back of his knee to keep him there as they bind his arms. There's been an anger in the way the guards have treated him, every day since he was brought down here. It feels at fever pitch now. When the eye in the back of his neck opens to stare at the guard tying him, the man hits the back of his head hard enough that his forehead bounces off the stone.
“Stop that shit.”

Jon doesn't answer, but the eye doesn't close.

He's taken out of the dungeon then, hustled through corridors of the castle, and shoved onto a bench in another small room. This one has a window, at least, but the view is grim. Jon stares out the window at the gallows, at the man rigging a noose from it.

He's afraid.

He's tired of waiting.

The two feelings don't lie well together and he hates it, the stomach-twisting nausea of it. It reminds him of the Distortion. And the Unknowing.

He tries again to reach the Horizon, not to escape but to escape the moment, but it remains out of his reach. He can't reach anything he might describe as a meditative state. He's not sure he ever has in his life.

By the time he's pulled up off the bench to come outside, every eye is open, and his view of the courtyard is fractured and confusing. He fixes three eyes on Ambrose when they meet at the foot of the new-cut wooden steps, and just nods. They have nothing to say to each other. The guard on his left – the same one from before – grabs the back of his collar to escort him up those stair. Jon makes the mistake of looking up, at the gallows looming above him. The noose is black against the bright blue sky.

He doesn't intend to look out at the assemblage either, but his eyes aren't giving him the option. It's the eyes on his shoulder, his ankles, that rove over those gathered, and he follows their gaze in surprise. Not enough people. That isn't enough people.

Jon's shoulders slump in relief when he realizes what's missing; the prisoners aren't here. Martin isn't here. But he spots Coraline just as the guards position him on the trapdoor. He meets her eyes, taking a shallow breath. All he can give her is a look of wry apology, and then he looks away again as they put the noose over his head.

When Ambrose speaks, Jon looks aside at him, his lips pressing thin. Until 'intention of lethal harm,' when his expression sharpens with offense. “You're a liar, Ambrose,” he snaps, voice raised above the High Mage's final words.

As last words go, maybe he can live with those.

And may be he won't have to.

Glaring at Ambrose, waiting for the ground to drop from underneath him, it takes Jon a moment to realize he's not just pausing for effect. A moment for the commotion below the gallows to penetrate.

I. [Their cell of four is down to three. The dhampir can't say how he feels about the matter, and quite frankly, he isn't inclined to engage on it right now either. Getting out of this place is the most important priority, and that execution should be the correct time to--

--do whatever is happening right now as magic rushes down the corridor like snow in an avalanche. The suddenness has the dhampir on his feet, curiosity winning out over every other possible concern. This isn't Hector's plan, he can say that much with certainty, but the doors are open. A portal glows at the end.

Does he trust the man standing in the portal? Absolutely not. Does he go through regardless? Yes.

He listens quietly at the explanation, eyes everywhere at once. Considering the scene, considering those forced to watch, all of it. (She was burnt, the back of his mind supplies. It looked different than this.)

He knows what the choice is to be. Instead, he takes a look around to make sure no eyes are on him. Then he takes a few steps forward.

There is a white wolf standing where he was just a few moments before.

The wolf huffs a sigh of relief, takes a few more steps forward, and is Alucard again.] I suppose that is the other issue addressed.

[He knows what choice to make, and when he thinks no one is looking, Alucard's shape changes. His is a wolf. He is a fluttering of bats. He is a person again, and this is all in service of ensuring that things work as they should and being able to address it if they aren't. Alucard moves left, and in a blink of an eye, is a hundred feet further away.

Yes. That's as it should be.]

II. Closed to Hector
[The portal to the Free Cities. It isn't a hard choice - there's no promise Thorne won't pursue any and all who have escaped through obvious or more subtle means. So best to hide among real enemies rather than neutral ones, get bearings, and proceed.

But there is a sour note to all of it, and as much as Alucard hates to admit it, he can imagine someone else is tasting that same note. Hector's easy enough to find, at least.]

I suppose we were both outclassed for dramatics.

III. Wildcard Whatever you want or hit me up on the plotting post

I. Out of the Pan

It's not like any of the mornings here are eventful. Martin tends to wake up early to the sound of the guards changing, old and well-versed paranoia regaining its hold on him these past few weeks. So when something different happens, he's on high alert.

He rolls out of his bunk quickly: his movements are stiff and his energy lacking, but he clings to the bars to try and watch what the guards are doing, and he has a bad feeling--

...that's Jon. Jon being dragged out of the cell by guards, and bound, and marched cruelly away, and Martin stands on his toes despite himself to try and yell after them. "E-excuse me! Where are you taking him-- hey?"

2. And into the fire

Well, he's going to spend the next however long in a blind bloody panic. It doesn't particularly show on his face, at least, just in the way he sitting very still, not really looking at anyone, idly scratching light holes in his sleeves and deepening rivets in the skin around his elbows from his arms being folded.

When the doors suddenly open, and the man appears in the portal, Martin's almost ashamed of how quickly he gets up and throws the cell door open to follow him through. Even if he falters when he steps through, actually realising what he's seeing - the sight of Jon on the gallows, guards and Ambrose frozen around him while everyone else is moving in a panic; it's someone shoving past him that knocks the sense back into him when he stumbles, and then he actually looks around properly, trying to get his bearings.

"Oh God..."

01 | Jailbroken

[ Since being removed from solitary, Julie has been alone in a cell -- the guards had realized that she most likely could not be trusted to be with anyone else. But she could see and hear others from her new cell, so she hadn't had another breakdown. She does look a bit worse for the wear, with scabbed over scratch marks on her face. Her broken right middle finger is tied to the ring finger in a makeshift splint, created from a strip of her tunic that she'd torn off in solitary. They also don't take care of the prisoners in any way, so general grime has built up on her from lack of showers. But she's otherwise okay.

While in another world, she might have used the cells unlocking as an opportunity to hunt Eponine down again, this time it's far more important to actually try and understand what's happening. There's a portal, and a man even more otherworldly than Flagg invites them through, and she doesn't hesitate to follow him. After all, what was the alternative? Stay locked up?

In the crowd of prisoners, she looks for Flagg, for others that she hadn't completely alienated by mauling Eponine, but really, her focus is on this mysterious man. ]

02 | But Not Housebroken

[ The man and woman depart, and Julie looks around in the crowd of the still-animate guests. She doesn't give a shit about the man in the noose, not when she needs to get the hell out of dodge and make sure that at least Lloyd comes with her.

She needs him. He knows his way around.

But she thinks she should put together a game plan, and she wants to bounce her ideas off of people that she thinks might have something worthwhile to say. So, aside from her Vegas family, she looks for those that she can even marginally recognize, asking them with a note of confusion: ]

So whaddya think?

03 | Wildcard

[ Anything you want, or contact me at

sarahwand or bitchcraft#2753 to plot. ]

Edited 2021-08-25 14:05 (UTC)

Execution/Escape

Nadine had little interest in a public execution, but no strong opposition to what's happening. She has no ill thoughts about Jon, but she barely knows him and he brought on this on himself.

But when the portals open and time stop she snaps to attention. This is it. The opportunity she and those from her world have been waiting for. The plan has been set even if they hadn't known just how they'd get away from the castle or when, but there's no debate or choice for Nadine to make.

What she does have to do is check in with the few people she considers friends before fleeing the castle with her group. Amos, of course, despite his mood the last time they'd spoken. Homelander, Eponine, Susan... There isn't much time, but there's time enough for a few words. That's all she needs.

She approaches each with a hesitant hand on the arm or a soft 'hey...', very aware of how quick she needs to be.

I➔ Release

With Nidhogg's power having been absent for so long, its screaming return is initially more startling than anything else that happens. Suddenly, the power behind his anger has form, and its hold on him as thick and heavy, almost as bad as it hand been when it consumed him entirely. He staggers down to his knee for a moment, breathing heavily. Gradually, he works himself through regaining control.

Not without some side effects, though. As his heart pounds and fury burns through his veins, a physical change accompanies it. He sees it first in the claws growing from his fingers, and feels it most in the horns pushing out from his skull. A tail whips behind him, and scales smatter his skin.

For a moment, his panic is absolute. He feels as if he's lost control of his body, and it shakes him to his core.

II➔ Reasoning

Though it will take him a tick to come to terms with the sudden arrival of his draconic shapeshifting ability, after that, fetching Relena and getting those he's concerned with out of there will be his primary concern. Himeka and Relena are two that he refuses to part ways with - for other positive connections, however, he will be much more permissive. As he briefly roams the area, he will try to fine the people he's gotten to know in any capacity, to ask them about where they are going and what they intend to do.

He'll be carrying Relena around for most of this time, but he'll stop long enough to check-in. He's heading to Solvunn, he's already decided as much, but if he knows you he may explain his reasoning:

"When I spoke to the Duchess of Hayle, she referred to a 'damn commune' to the south. Supposedly, it's where the man who wrote Ambrose's book of judgement fled after being banished... and given the those descriptions, Solvunn sounds the likelier option."

But, if you are planning on heading to the Free Cities, or attempting a fourth option, he will see little reason to convince you otherwise. With such little information, it could be useful to have eyes and ears in all locations, and he'll be more interested in asking you about your plans than anything else. The only thing he'll judge harshly is being truly loyal to Thorne.

Of course, there isn't much point in trying to scold those people, either. He can't stand to be in this place much longer.

III➔ Parting Remarks (One Thread Only)

Though his eyes have strayed to Ambrose multiple times as he moves about, finalizing his business in this place, his priorities started out elsewhere. Now that it's nearing completion, though, now that the only thing left to do is leave?

He can't shake the idea: what if it could all be ended here?

He doesn't make a big show of it, really. With his powers returned, he's able to move incredibly quickly, going from resting position to streaking through the air in an instant. It's a dragoon dive, angled over those that are congregated around the stage, both innocents and otherwise. Though his attempt to strike one of the guards nearest his cell earlier resulted in little, he decides to indulge the idea - what if he hits a lot harder?

He was unwilling to commit to killing one of the of the guards when they were clearly no longer a threat to him, but Ambrose is owed no such mercy.

When he dives for the stage, it's with the draconic magic of Ala Morn running through his claws - a magic of pure darkness and death. Maybe it will work, maybe it won't, but the vengeful anger turning in his gut won't let him pass this opportunity up.

[Estinien is trying to hit frozen Ambrose hard enough to kill him! Characters who are guarding him/the stage are welcome to intervene. I'm only going to have one thread for this, but I'm happy to have multiple people tag into it! Estinien is not going to persist very long, so there will only be a brief IC window for this. He's moving quite fast and without much warning at all, but fast reaction times can get in his way.

If you want your character to be a true hero and block the blow by soaking it like a tank/want to have Estinien accidentally hurt them instead, it's basically a high damage darkness attack that may or may not have piercing capabilities against magic shields, depending on how you play it. Estinien's dragon magic is fairly high on the overall power scale, but he's also very tired and worn down, so it's flexible.]

Louis had been prepared to impassively watch a man die today. He's seen worse, certainly. He's on a temporary prosthetic that digs uncomfortably into his leg, but he doesn't show any signs of discomfort. He stays resolute with his hands folded behind him and his chin tilted up a little, his eyes hard to read as he observes the human at the gallows.

And then all that happened. Louis glances at the portals, then the frozen natives, then the people swarming the gallows to save their friend... and he curses under his breath. Staying here will only lead to being blamed, and possibly imprisoned for all this.

He immediately moves to the closest native with a backpack--a man clearly due to go to work or class after the execution--and pulls it off of him before checking the contents.

"We're not likely to have as much hospitality as we've had here," Louis says as he quickly rifles through its contents, dropping anything he sees as useless at the native's feet. "Find any essentials quickly. The High Mage can compensate the locals for anything we take."

He pulls a pack of gum from the bag. "Bubblegum. If you want it, catch." He throws the gum at the nearest person, barely looking at them as he calculates what he needs and how much time it'd take to rush into the castle and grab books or clothing.

I. Escape

He felt it long before he saw the effects of what was happening. He felt the magical energy and it was familiar while altogether different from what he was used to in the Heat of Battle. But he still felt it, and then the cells unlocked. He was the cautious sort but this was also a curious development. Majima didn't take too long to investigate.

The man standing in front of the portal beckoned the prisoners but he wasn't very welcoming and Majima hung back just a bit. Not out of fear but again that caution. He wanted to be in the middle of the crowd so if an attack came from either end he'd have time to react.

But it never came and the portal dumped them out into the courtyard with the rest of the kidnapped world jumpers. And one of their number on the hanging block. Majima recognized Jon but it all happened so quickly he didn't take action. It was taken care of for him. So he focused on what he could, on his own issues, on what was being offered. An escape route.

His only priority with what little time they had was to find Kiryu and figure out what that man was going to do with this opportunity. Majima wouldn't stay here even if the other man decided that was what he wanted to do in order to proceed somehow, but Majima could at least keep track of Kiryu if he knew. He doubted the other wanted to stay here any more than he did though from what they'd spoken of so far. In that case, Majima was curious which portal Kiryu would take.

And then he had to decide for himself which path he wanted to take. It was a hard choice to make with so little information but if he had to Majima wasn't above simply flipping a coin and ending up on whatever side it told him. He just wanted out of Thorne as quickly as possible.

II. Wildcard

The Free Cities. That's what they called this nation. What a fucking joke. The irony of the choice wasn't lost on him. It wasn't a bad name for a place that had struggled to take back its independence but it was a little too on the nose even for Majima's taste.

The alcohol he found there, however, was just as good as any other. Especially while having it in a place that wasn't a jail cell.

It might have been best not to ask where he'd managed to procure the money he was using in the bar to keep his throat wet. It had been a tough few days to settle in and though Majima didn't care how he got it someone with a better sense might take offense to his methods. He couldn't help it though if local punks thought they could take advantage of a foreigner when he first arrived--he left them on the ground with a wallet that was a little lighter for their ill-conceived efforts. It didn't bother him in the least. It was oddly familiar and, to be honest, a little comforting for it.

So now he sat at a bar in the closest city the portal had dumped him and others headed to this country. Whatever name it held he didn't care yet, those sorts of details he'd worry about later. He'd figure it all out, just like he promised. But for now all that mattered was the sense of freedom and the alcohol in the glass in front of him. He wondered, briefly, how often he would run into any of the others but those sorts of thoughts, too, were for another time.

[ The piercing noise is what hits Geralt first, above all else: sharp, whining. He winces when Cirilla's voice strikes him. It doesn't settle, but he also hasn't got time to care. His singular thought is to reach her and Yennefer. He spares no glance back at anyone else. Shit. The last thing he trusts is a portal from a stranger, but what the hell else is there to do?

They stumble through into the yard. He keeps a grip on Ciri, some part of him afraid of losing her in the rush as he searches for Jaskier. Follows the beat of Jaskier's heart and his scent that now comes through clearer than ever. (As overwhelming as it all is, he's missed being himself.) None of this is expected or planned for; a million thoughts collide in his head. Whoever their so-called saviors are, it's a bit too convenient. Isn't it? Still. He can't risk staying here. With Ciri involved, that's out of the question. It isn't long before he makes a decision, one that's pieced together too hastily, with too little understood. He doesn't like this. He doesn't fucking like any of it. But it's all they have, and he knows, deep down, that states that claim neutrality can be swayed. Can be bought. In all likelihood may not welcome unwanted strangers falling into their land, disrupting the careful peace they've cultivated. At least in the Free Cities, there's information to be leveraged. And any place that fears this kind of power as much as Thorne craves it—it can't be left unwatched where Ciri is concerned.

Somewhere along the way, he senses Yen has made a different choice. When she moves to speak to Cirilla in private, that only confirms it. But it is not until both Jaskier and Ciri have stepped through, when his gaze locks with hers, that it dawns on him she hasn't any intention of leaving at all. The realization tugs fiercely on his heart. Because he gets it. He does. It's a logical decision, to remain embedded with those who might prove a threat, and there's no one better to rise within Thorne's court than Yennefer. He doesn't give a shit about logic, is the thing. Or that she's undoubtedly still pissed at him over—everything. He just—

He isn't thinking, really, when he closes the distance between them and lifts his hand to brush a thumb right under her jaw, where a bruise lingered only moments ago. (Before Jaskier of all people solved that.) ]

Come with us. [ It comes out softly. Like he already knows he won't change her mind. Maybe that's why he doesn't give a reason. Why he doesn't try to convince her that it's too dangerous, that she can't know they'll hear her out instead of ridding of the remaining arrivals altogether. He hardly knows what waits for them on the other side, either. There's equal chance they'll only be branded by association with Thorne and arrested anew. It is not, in the end, about what the right choice is. None of this sits right, none of this feels right, these doors swinging wide open out of nowhere, time conveniently frozen for them to step through without trouble. It's simply that he doesn't want to leave her behind. ]

Edited 2021-08-27 01:16 (UTC)

Escape

Relena reunites with Himeka and Estinien just in time for Oliver and Elizabeth to open the portals, allowing the prisoners to enter the execution yard. She had been incredibly relieved to see Oliver had indeed been true to his word and come back quickly to free them. As odd as it was to have her two compatriot's magic suddenly unleashed, she can't help but feel things might be going in a better direction for them.

She will be spending her time close to them, held by Estinien as she leans tiredly against him. She's for once not feeling embarrassed about being carried around. She looks exhausted and worn down, just a little distant, but she's willing to talk. When Oliver and Elizabeth go to depart, she straightens up and waves her hand at them with as much energy as she can muster, smiling. She lifts up her voice, hoping to get one last gratitude out to him over the crowd's confusion.

"Goodbye, Oliver! And thank you again! For everything!"

She will be not be leaving Estinien and Himeka for long going forward. She's willing to ask to be put down for friends coming to check on her and will be idling alone while Estinien attempts to get to Ambrose, distracted again once he's subdued and she can go and try to speak her piece to him in an effort to calm and redirect his attention to leaving as soon as humanly possible. These are the best times to speak with her before she's picked up again and carried into the portal for Solvunn.

Horizon Wildcard

In the day or two following the escape, while recuperating and resting in Solvunn, she will be meditating to test her connection to the Solidarity. What Oliver had told her made her concerned about her ability to return to it again, so she's testing the waters for a spell while her party regroups and gets their bearings.

She will likely visit a few of the more comforting domains that she had been in during their first venture into the fray. She will otherwise be taking some quiet time in her own domain as at attempt at alone time. She needs a spell to sit in her quiet and cry where no one can think less of her. She won't chase off visitors, though, even if she might be more reserved than usual if they wander in and try to speak with her.

i. A funny thing happened during an execution--

Fucking dammit.

Nero wasn't sure what sort of expression that he should wear watching Jon being escorted up to be hung. Rather than be horrified or distressed, he directed his gaze down to his arms that were weighed down by the weight of clothes that he bought. I had a whole thing set up and now it's ruined. I guess I can give these outfits after the execution… but I really wanted them to wear something nice while they knew one of their own was dying up here.

The elf had heard about Jon's execution and thought it would be hilarious to acquire some nice clothes for the prisoners to wear during that day. It's a special occasion and deserved special treatment. However, he did not realize a few things. First, the prisoners would not be allowed to watch with the welcomed guests. Second, the guards wouldn't let Nero bring the clothes down before the execution could get under way.

And third … I wonder if Jon's regretting not being willing to let his fellow prisoner die so that he could escape.

He fixed his gaze on the man, ignoring the weight of clothes in his arms. This is just as you wanted it. No one is going to die but you. Aren't you happy? Though, Nero supposes not. He also thinks that Ambrose chose a real bitch way to kill someone publicly. Last public execution I was at, the people were burned at the stake. We're hanging him for having attacked you? These people really lack teeth.

As he critiques the manner of death, he adds in wondering how he's going to apologize to Martin for what happened.

In short, Nero was relatively checked out during the actual execution. However, he abruptly pays attention as soon as the portals open. Huh? The elf almost wants to laugh. It seems like the gods really did take mercy on Jon's soul – and the souls of the other prisoners. He starts to laugh at what unfolds next; his laughter bright and filled with merriment rather than vicious hysterics. Oh, that's really funny! Funnier than anything I could have come up with. I'm a little sad to be outdone!

"Looks like it's time to leave." He announces the obvious to no one in particular.

To prisoners, he makes a gesture – lifting his arms up slightly so that they can acknowledge the pile of clothes that he happens to be toting around. Given everything that is going on, he can understand that they might be a little too shaken up to realize what he has. "Hey, parting gift from a once welcomed guest of Thorne."

With other welcomed guests, he offers a small wave to them. "Good luck." The elf seems like he honestly means the sentiment, at the very least. Of course, what he means by the sentiment, he doesn't really have the time to get into with too many folk. There's only so much time and he has to figure out where he's going.

Thorne invited the right person to help them, but… they lack real conviction in what they want to accomplish. A pity. Not everyone can or will be super down for mass murder, Nero.

ii. One promise kept. [ closed to Eponine ]

"Looks like you're free."

The elf offers that as his only greeting to the young woman. He had rid himself of most of the clothes that he was carrying – either by giving them as parting gifts or just throwing them on the ground so they can be someone else's problem.

"It's a real shame that you weren't able to accomplish what you wanted, but there's always next time." Nero, of course, is referring to the plan that the two of them concocted to murder "Miss Julie." Though, he isn't sure if Eponine is going to have a "next time" when it comes to sorting things out with her ex-prisoner-mate.

"Anyway, here you go." He holds out to her a red silk dress. His smile is unpleasant to look upon. "A promise is a promise."

Hennessy looks dazed as the people who've frozen time explain their options. This door or that; the lady or the tiger. It's all the same to her in her present state -- that slightly hazy, drunken feeling that comes with having waited too long to dream. It shouldn't be happening anywhere near this soon, but the dungeons had been devoid of the energy that sustained her, however unwillingly.

She hadn't been especially keen on witnessing an execution, though there was a mad part of her that had been curious. She'd never seen a hanging before. Maybe the guy deserved it. Or maybe she'd be next. In either case, it's not something she wants to see badly enough to hang around, not when there's an option that doesn't involve going back behind bars.

It takes her all of thirty seconds to come to a decision.

"Right, I'm sold. Anyone else interested in fucking off to the Free Cities?"

She doesn't especially care if she's the only one, but it's her opinion that anyone with a functioning brain cell would get as far away as possible from the absolute shitshow that's about to go down here when time unfreezes.

THE PORTALS ; CLOSED TO CIRI + (KIND OF) JASKIER

[ there had been whispers of an execution since yennefer had first arrived - a story of a guest who had attacked ambrose, outright. who had been brought down into the dungeons with the rest of them. who had been tried, found guilty, set to be executed in front of an audience. yennefer found very little about the scenario surprising- attacking a man like ambrose in any fashion was ridiculously stupid. but the tension of the day buzzed through the cells like a storm before the first strike of lightning.

then there is the piercing, high pitched ringing of something happening.

none of it matters much to yennefer, though, when she feels the magic flood the cells. she's not looking out for it, as the shuddering first begins, but when she feels a wave of pure magic washes over her. she feels full, whole, for the first time since she arrived - and with an inhale comes the feeling of it, and with an exhale, her eyes open to the doors. ciri probably watches as, even if the cell doors have unlocked, the doors to their own all but explode off their hinges, shuddering as they slam open. yennefer has been patient, but the time for patience is no longer. geralt is there barely a breath later, which also comes as very little surprise, and then the three of them are moving - both she and geralt on the same page with regards to the goal here. get ciri out, get ciri away. yennefer's body hurts, the remnants of the guard's anger, the still-healing arrow to her gut. running through these portals doesn't help, but it doesn't matter, because she has her magic back. they move first through the portal at the end of the hall, and onto the yard. yennefer scans the scene before them, noting the frozen bodies, the image of ambrose up on the gallows - an execution, the execution, and now chaos. the catches the end of what the two figures are saying to the crowd of them, outstretched hands, chances for escape, and then the two are gone, two portals left behind. two options for them to take.

yennefer can feel the crackle of the magic in the air, the sheer amount of chaos existing around them, all emitting from the portals, yes, but it's more than that. she can feel it in her fingertips, even now. she pays no mind to how it is jaskier ends up with them, or where it is they're going when they start off towards the portals, her one hand on ciri at all times, whether it's a hand on her back or fingers in her tunic. they move, and then they stop, and it becomes clear to yennefer that a decisions has made. and in that decision, her own, too.

as they come to the portal to the free cities, yennefer realizes just how quickly time is running out. how little of it she is going to have. she reaches for ciri's wrist, then, to pull her a step or so off to the side, away from jaskier. from geralt (though, if their magic has been returned, he can probably still hear them, even now. but yennefer doesn't care, because in this instance, there's something more important for her to do. she pulls ciri in front of her, catching her eyes, and gods. gods. her chest tightens so painfully she wonders if she can still breathe. ]

Cirilla.

[ she's not stupid, she can probably see what yennefer is trying to say. even still, yennefer takes a slow breath, fighting for the words through the suffocating realization of how much this, somehow, pains her. how she has known this girl for days, barely even weeks, and yet it also feels like she is standing on the edge of something much bigger. much harder to carry. ciri is in danger, in this place. every second that she remains is a second closer to ambrose finding her, realizing what is inside her. exploiting that. yennefer, separated from whatever this protective, overwhelming sensation is within her, would never allow her to be used like that. not here, not anywhere.

she just hadn't quite realized that ciri's safety would, truly, have to be separated from her this suddenly. ]

You can't stay here. [ ciri knows this. this isn't the surprise, but yennefer is working up to it. ]

THE EXECUTION GROUNDS ; OPEN

[ yennefer does not hesitate, once geralt disappears through the portal. any of the heaviness that had been hanging over her slipping off like stepping out of a long cloak. with her head held high and her eyes back to the the crowd, the frozen thorneans, amrbose, still up on the platform, held to the spot. she has some words for him, in the long run. things she would really enjoy doing. but her task at hand is to work her way into this court, to find her place with the mages. to learn, to understand, and to keep an eye on what it is they know.

to do all of that involves ambrose' good favor. and what he's done up until this point, putting her in the dungeons and cutting off her magic because she could be considered dangerous. well. he's not wrong. still isn't wrong, really. but to secure her way out of those cells when all of this settles and the people all around her come back to life - she needs to make her intent known. that she is not an enemy, but someone that ambrose should want with him. as an ally.

and so yennefer moves through the crowd, her chaos like a kind of statically charged shield around her. she picks up a discarded shortsword from the ground as she approaches, coming to a stop at the foot of the platform and turning back to the still running guests and prisoners, her stance obvious - anyone who would want to get to ambrose, magically or otherwise, would need to go through her. with a sword in one hand and her other lifted as well, just in case. she nearly dares someone with her eyes, wanting a reason to fight back. needing a reason to be destructive, now that she has access to it all again. give her a reason. ]

WILDCARD

[ plotting comment is here if there's anything else we want to try and plot out! or just toss something my way and we can roll with it. ]

Edited 2021-08-29 18:21 (UTC)

[It's an understatement to say Hector's day is not going as planned. He'd had his own plans to make his escape from Thorne during the execution, then resolved himself to postponing them when the Honored Guests were all compelled to witness the execution, and then everything froze and portals opened.

It's fortuitous, but Hector's going to take a second to just... stare at the magical gateways.]

Well, fuck.

[He listens to the explanations the mages offer. Hector knows which faction makes the most sense to him (which, honestly, is Thorne, but they burned their bridges by imprisoning half of the people they summoned), and he knows which way he's going to end up going (the place Alucard is retreating to), and they don't match up. It's fine.

He sighs, checks to make sure his frog familiar is still safely in his pocket, then steps towards the gate for the Free Cities.]

Guess I'll be off, then. Anyone else coming this way?

Rare though public executions have been, in Emet-Selch's (recent) experience, the idea is not something he has any sort of trouble with. True, he knows very little of the man who is to be executed, much less what he has done to deserve such a fate but that he has is, to be quite honest, interesting in its own right. Illustrative, even. No merciful hand here, even for those who might otherwise have been considered to be guests.

(Though it is not as if he hasn't been more than aware of the existence of the prisons, and that alone has been enough to suggest that things are not necessarily as welcoming as they might seem.)

He is not, however, particularly thrilled about having been all but ordered to attend. True, it makes sense enough if they mean to make a spectacle of it, but the orders still chafe. Not least of all because it's something he might have gladly done on his own - if only for the sake of observation. Still, he says nothing of his opinions. Merely waits patiently and observes, noting the various tensions and emotions that are running through the courtyard, as if he's simply waiting to see what sort of chaos might unfold in the aftermath.

(And he is. It may not be a chaos of his own making, but it is something he can potentially use none the less.)

The sudden surge of magic as time freezes catches him by surprise, and for a moment he's simply left... blinking. But for all that the potential for chaos has shifted, this is no less interesting. Merely different, and after a moment he finally manages to find his voice again.

"Well. This is certainly... unexpected."

Time has stopped. Abigail simply stares around for a moment at the people frozen, and tentatively waves a hand in front of a guard's face to see if he'll react, but he doesn't even blink.

She doesn't consider going through either portal even for a second, not trusting the magic of this world or the two strangers who'd used it, certain that stepping through will only lead her into greater trouble. No, the only person she can trust here is herself, so it's herself she'll rely on.

Taking a last look back at the chaos frozen in the courtyard, she turns and runs as fast as she can and as far as she can. She has to stop a few times to catch her breath, hiding as best as she can in case the guards and mages suddenly begin to move again and spot her, and once she trips over her own feet as she's not used to moving about so much after her weeks in prison. But eventually she's out of Thorne and heading in no particular direction, not having planned anything more than getting away.

THE YARD

[ when sam is confident enough that martin makes it to the portal, to jon, he turns his attention to the counting clock. there isn't much time at all, he knows that, and so sam starts off in a run - to the portal, to what he can see of the dungeons. god, this is too easy, way to easy, which puts sam more on edge than he needs to be. he has people he needs to find, and more he needs to make sure get out, and for that - well, sam is slipping into captain mode, stopping each person, sometimes going as far as to grab their shoulders just to get them to take control.

are they staying, or going. because they have to choose quick. time is counting down.

even so, sam is apprehensive, if only because he has no way to know what actually he actually is sending everyone into. no way to know for sure if it's safe, or even where they say it's supposed to be. but sam has a feeling, and if it means getting everyone else out of that dungeon, he can't really question it. he has plenty of questions, but there are also too many prisoners. too many guests. ]

Listen, I'm not gonna force you either way. But if you do want to run, now's your chance.

[ he is also going to step in, if anyone tries to do anything funny with the frozen thoreans, and he will also be very disappointed. ]

WILDCARD

[ sam is going to be a little all over the place for basically the entire hour they have until he makes it through the free cities portal. his plotting comment is here but also feel free to have just about anyone run into him, or have sam approach y'alls kids. he will be trying to touch base with JUST ABOUT EVERY SINGLE CHARACTER and i can roll with just about anything! ]

[ Roland hasn't had to shoot anyone today, which he thinks he's pleased about. He'd been ready to, though. Letting Jonathan Sims be hung wasn't as option, not with the power he possessed. But matters resolved themselves, though not in the way he'd anticipated.

He's cursing himself now for not keeping track of Susan or Eddie. Eddie had been in the dungeons, but Susan-- where was she in the rush of people heading to and fro, disappearing into the portals that would take them gods knew where. She was his priority. He was Eddie's dihn, say true, but Eddie was a man grown. Susan, for all the wisdom and cunning she had, was still a child.

All at once he spots a head of golden hair in the crowd. He recognises her at a glance, as he always will. ]

Susan! Susan Delgado! To me!

[ His voice is strong and clear, cutting across the noise around them. He waits to meet her eye, to be sure she has heard and seen him, then begins to move towards her. ]

Talk about not having enough time to make a decision; Harrow has only just gotten to know maps enough to know that those are places in this world at all and some of the other—foreigners—might be even further behind than she is. If she had nervous habits besides looking put out and frustrated and crossing her arms around her chest,s he would be doing them. Instead she is doing just that, and her fingertips are running bone shards between them. As if she were about to throw them in ire. But she isn't. This doesn't seem to be a thing that is anyone's fault, and there's no one to throw it at.

After about ten seconds of thinking, she starts to pace, but the line she's pacing is very, very small. She is entirely no use at hiding her feelings at this stage.

Thirty seconds into that, she finally casts a glance out to place her cavalier, and once she's sure she has Gideon's attention (and you can feel free to catch her before that point!) she says, "Reclusive and claims neutrality sounds like a much better idea than some to me, but I'm guessing it's not your ideal?"

Threaded | Flat

[Cell 1 Roommates Tearful Reunion]

no subject

no subject

no subject