abraxaslogs | [Closed]

[The commune cares for all of its Summoned, even the quiet, reclusive ones, but Aloy doesn't make herself easy to reach for the average Solvunn local. Most of them are farmers, not hunters. They'd make the trip into the woods if they had to, but there are others more suited to the task.

It's an easy enough journey for Michael, whose flight allows him to skip a walk through the forest entirely and who has little to worry about even if he did bump into one of the monsters rumored to hide there. He still believes at least a few alleged sightings of fearsome creatures between the trees are nervous town-dwellers mistaking Aloy and hunters like her for something worse.

Whatever the truth of it, there are no monsters to be found today.

Her home isn't too hard to pick out. This deep into the woods, there aren't many structures that look inhabited. He drops into the middle of a walled clearing, a bag slung over his shoulder. This must be the place.

Michael peers around at her setup for a short while, noting strips of meat being smoked over a fire nearby and cleaned animal hides—well, maybe monster hides, all he knows is that one side is furry—drying at another end of her miniature settlement. Then he calls out.]

Aloy?

[He could walk straight into the main house without announcing himself. An arrow through the chest or an axe to the side wouldn't kill him, but he'd still rather not.]

[They are not avoiding each other. It's simply been a bit tense between them ever since their disagreement in Nocwich. Even the best of friends don't always see eye to eye.

(This is not a notion that sits well with Michael, who all these months later is still used to either the unquestioning allegiance of his fellows or the easy give of a vessel under his force of will. It takes time to unravel thousands of years of routine.)

Wanda is not in her usual haunts when he goes looking for her, though. She doesn't seek him out, either, which is usually just as common. There are less-likely spots he could check and Solvunn is only so large when you've got wings, but one doesn't usually need to hunt friends like they're rabbits to be flushed from the underbrush. Hadn't she expressed a desire for distance during their argument?

Well. He can take a hint.

Michael finds a routine for the week that does not include trips to the farm where Wanda resides, but he does not hide. He runs his public errands and he accepts the menial chores asked of him, including the host who'd taken him in when he'd first arrived.

From afar, the garden in front of Josephine's house is paler than usual. Approaching reveals a layer of gossamer draped over the plants, a patchwork of cobwebs covering them like a quilt. Hey, he had to put all of the spiders that emerged from him somewhere.

Inside the home, Michael is subjected to the indignity of having a plain-looking white apron hooked over his neck and then tied about his waist while the old woman prattles on about the importance of quality ingredients in baking. He's heard all of this before. Josie likes things a certain way, however, and she has her routines, which he respects. She's also entirely unfazed by his displays of temper so there's little for him to do but leave or suffer in silence.]

[ Perhaps Michael has taken note of the seven-ish foot tall shark on two legs wandering around the farmland the past day. Maybe he has helpfully pointed him in the direction of the woods for "nom nom", or watched him attempt to chase down terrified goats and make bone wreaths.

Whatever the case, something about Michael has clearly made a mark on Nanaue (or, perhaps, he is the first person that Nanaue saw when he returned from Nocwich), as he approaches him out in the open, lumbering forward in a way that most people tend to find horrifying, waving. ]

Friend! Friend! Where go?

[ Nanaue has something on his mind. ]

[A few months ago, Michael might very well have been among those to regard Nanaue with open horror. He certainly looks the part of a monster. Since his arrival, however, he's met werewolves that don't hunt people, vampires that don't attack humans, and leviathans that beach themselves only to rely on the mercy of the locals to be dragged back to the sea. By now he's learned to 'roll with it', as Adam might have put it.

Michael stops and turns when called. Maybe it's the fact that he doesn't flinch as the man-shark thunders down the path at him that Nanaue appreciates in return.

He could make it easy on him and fly the rest of the way over, but far be it for Michael to deprive him of a run. Suddenly appearing within arm's reach tends to startle people, anyway, and he doesn't see any benefit in surprising someone with the jaw strength of a great white. He waits until he's closer to speak.]

Nowhere in particular. [He was on his way to visit one of the locals, in fact, but old woman Josie either doesn't notice or doesn't care that his visits are irregular.] Are you looking for something to do?

[Though he's come to conclude there's not enough going on upstairs for Nanaue to develop nefarious plots, he's still of the opinion that he's the type of creature best kept occupied.]

[ Nanaue has never had so many people be kind to him. It's truly been an experience. In the part of his brain that processes these things with a few more cylinders firing at once, he thinks fairly often about a woman Cleo in these moments. His first friend.

There's surprisingly little sound to what should be thundering footsteps, and he stops in front of Michael, jaw open wide in preparation for words to spill out. Whether Michael actually had plans would've probably been irrelevant at this point. ]

Ahhhhhhhhhhhorizon. [ He seems very excited about this. His massive fists ball up, his nose holes opening and closing in tandem with his gills. ]

Friend Summoned go. You go?

[ Everyone keeps telling him about it, but no one will show him how! ]

[It's kind of Nanaue in turn to think of Michael's stiff exterior as kindness. He's never had someone warm up to calling him 'friend' so quickly before. Exactly what he means when he says it Michael can't be certain, but he gathers he must not be using the title quite the same way everyone else does.

He takes in the very excited fishman in front of him with his customary impassive expression and a slight tilt of his head.]

You've never been. [The reason for the excitement, he assumes, and why he doesn't just go there himself. Michael's not used to being the one called on for this duty—either one of Solvunn's more outgoing Summoned or Wanda handles it first—but he has no issue leading the way.] I can take you, but not here. Somewhere quiet.

[Michael turns and makes for a small side path up ahead. He motions for Nanaue to follow, head turning just enough to keep an eye on him.]

What have the others told you about the Horizon?

[ Somewhere quiet? He blinks a few times with his gills fluttering, but he inevitably follows after Michael along said path.

What did Julie say again... ]

Special place. Learn magic, me! [ He wants to make things appear in the air too. Impress new friends.

His gaze follows a pair of sparrows that flit by. His trajectory begins to stray ever so slightly until they disappear into the underbrush, so that he jogs a few steps to catch back up. ]

[josie, on the other hand, doesn't seem to know how to take a hint. which is probably why dealing with michael's displays of temper don't faze her at all. it's probably why she leaves for a moment, leaving michael to mix some ingredients together, and manages to—surprise—pull wanda in through the front door, hooking an equally plain-looking white apron over her neck and tying it around her waist.]

You're skinny, aren't you? Have you just been eating bones and milk?

[a timely joke, josie completely unawares of wanda's previous compulsion. it's just a thing they say in solvunn, turns out.

she's led into the kitchen, to face michael, and feels far too put upon for all this. it's not like wanda had much to do, was en route to anywhere, and perhaps that was her mistake—answering that yeah, she could do a favor for josie.

with a few sets of instructions about baking the loaves of bread and pie needed, josie bids them goodbye, saying that she needs to go deliver some herbs to martha. they best behave—and she trusts that wanda will be able to get the taste of the food right, for michael is, for some unknown reason to her, completely useless at that.

the front door closes.

the house creaks in the silence.

wanda turns to look at michael, mouth a thin line.]

Bones and milk sounds disgusting.

[she'll mutter, petulantly, not quite knowing how to swim through this sea of awkwardness they've been put in.]

[Michael's stride is leisurely, allowing time for him to catch up when his attention wanders. He glances back to make sure Nanaue keeps following.]

Yes, magic, and your own domain to shape. [Count on whoever told him about the Horizon to mention only the highlights—or on Nanaue to remember only what excites him.] But you'll need to concentrate to get there.

[He's thinking it might not be easy to get this creature settled down and into a meditative state. One thing at a time, though. First, he needs a space where they won't be disturbed. There's a sheltered structure not far up ahead. It's sometimes used as a gathering point for outdoor events, but there's nothing scheduled for today.]

The first visit is different. You'll forget who you are and where you came from, but you'll remember again when you leave.

[Michael observes without a word as Wanda is subjected to the same indignity he was. He's been on the receiving end of that very same bones and milk comment, too, usually accompanied by a probing pinch of his upper arm and a cluck of her tongue. No matter how many times he explains it doesn't work that way for him, Josie can't understand why sending him out to chop wood or help the neighbours with their fields doesn't build muscle on him. Tall and thin, like an old dead tree he remains.

It's Wanda who breaks the silence, which surprises him none. He's learned most people can't bear silence in the company of others.]

I wouldn't know.

[Josie may not get it, but it's no secret to Wanda why he can't get the taste of anything right.

Fortunately, for all that it leaves them a little emotionally blunt and socially inept, the angelic near-immunity to awkwardness makes them excellent taskmasters. Michael can't just stand idly by when there's work that needs doing before him, especially work that he'd agreed to do.]

I suppose you'll be pleased it's a sugar pie [still the wrong time of year for fruit pies] and we're not required to grind any bones for the bread. Here.

[They'd been at it before Wanda arrived and the pie crust is just about ready; all it really needs is to be flattened and formed to the bottom of the pan. Michael slides the dough over to Wanda's side of the countertop, then passes her the rolling pin.

She is not leaving and he will not ask her to leave. He doesn't have to include her in this—could just leave her to mutter and figure out a direction on her own—but he does. Still, there is a careful stiffness to his posture, his face the impassive mask he wears in public and around strangers, like he's being polite.]

Concentrate. [ He nods. He can do that. He will be the best at concentrating, then he will go to the secret special place whenever he wants!

As they get closer to the structure his pace picks up, excitedly jogging toward it ahead of Michael. When he gets to the edge of it he turns around, watching him curiously. ]

Forget? [ Huh? His shoulders hunch. ]

I no forget... [ Half-dismissively, half-warily. Is he saying he thinks Nanaue will forget because he doesn't think he's smart? Nanaue will prove him wrong! He will remember everything the entire time! ] Friend. Nanaue. Soooooolvunn.

[ See? ]

[Michael joins him at what's effectively a bare bones gazebo: just supports, a roof, and flat, packed ground below. It's quiet and out of the way so it'll do for their purposes. A closed room might be better, but he's not sure even Josie would forgive him for bringing a sharkman into her home—or if her upstairs floor would support his weight.]

Yes, you're friend to all of the Summoned of Solvunn. [No reason to assume otherwise. The alternative is messy, from what he's seen of Nanaue's eating habits.] The memory loss is inevitable, but you're welcome to try and resist.

[Who knows? Maybe Nanaue will be the first among them to enter the Horizon for the first time with his full self intact. He seems to have little to lose.

Michael takes a seat on the ground, legs crossed, and motions for Nanaue to join him.]

Sit. You need to relax, calm down and clear your mind.

[ All the Summoned in Solvunn, and a few in the Free Cities already too! Nanaue has been busy in his short, short time here.

Or it's that he attracts a lot of attention for obvious reasons.

He gives a deep nod and grunt in agreement when Michael tells him he can try, then begins to sit down on the packed earth, mirroring him in his cross-legged position. If Michael closes his eyes, he will do the same.

Relax. Calm Down. Be quiet. He's had both phrases hurled at him many times before. Sometimes followed by horrified screaming and more insistent demands - he forgets, some things in his memory are a blur of red. He thought he liked working as hired muscle. But why? Smashing things and people was fun. No one was nice to him, like here, though.

It might surprise Michael how easily he goes quiet right now, and how he only opens his eyes once to peek at a bee that buzzes by. It lands on his snout and he goes cross-eyed watching it for a second, then closes his eyes again. ]

[It does indeed impress Michael how swiftly Nanaue settles into calm and quiet, resisting the temptation of songbirds chirping on low-hanging branches not far off. What he imagines awaits him in the Horizon must hold an even greater allure. Whatever the reason, he's not going to argue with success.

It's easy for him, too, to drop into a state of absolute relaxation. The body he inhabits is more a tool to him than something that has any hold on him in return.]

Good. [Small praise for a job well done.] Now give me your hand.

[But it's Michael who reaches out and takes Nanaue's unusually-shaped, overly-large hand into his, and draws them both into the Horizon—directly into his own domain, by force of habit.

The clearing they find themselves in is sunny. There's grass beneath their feet and trees bordering the small field, but a sudden absence of bird and insect sounds. There's a soft rustle from the treeline as a gentle wind moves the distant leaves, but nothing more to be heard.

Though he's clad in more modern attire, Michael wears the same face in the Horizon as he does outside of it—not that that's likely to mean anything right now.]

[ Like everyone else here, Michael's hand looks small in comparison the Nanaue's large mitts. The touch briefly startles him - but then he's floating-tumbling-swimming- standing, finally.

Nanaue opens his eyes, having not remembered closing them. There is a man in front of him, standing calmly in the grass.

Nanaue doesn't know this man. But he does know two things: his own name, and that he is painfully hungry.

There's no thought process behind his eyes, flattened and dark. Only instinct pushed by the sharp pangs in his belly as he lunges forward with surprisingly speed for a creature his size, jaws widened to reveal rows of vicious, serrated teeth. ]

[As the saying goes: no good deed goes unpunished. This is just what he deserves for relaxing his guard, Michael muses.

Angels are quick too, but he's not expecting the attack. Nanaue's attitude until now has been as mild as his appearance is fierce. Fish are never this fast outside of water, anyway. Michael dodges but it's not enough. His jacket catches on dozens of sharp points, his shoulder snagged between Nanaue's jaws.]

This is not what you're here for.

[His voice is firm, commanding, but he is not speaking to one of his subordinates.

What happened to the urge to create? Secondary to instinct when it comes to Nanaue, he can only assume—or perhaps it's just Michael he wants to carve into a new shape.]

[ Nanaue's mind creates: the taste of hot blood as he bites down, the sound of bone crunching as he tries to rip through flesh and bone to sever the limb so that he can swallow it whole. It's not greed or gluttony. It's more simple than that, and Michael's voice can't pierce through the frenzy of this prey drive sequence, once it's begun only equal or greater violence will stop it. Pain will stop it. ]

[Aloy knows full well that the location of her fort isn't a secret--she just hopes that most people will have the sense not to bother her, especially after what they've all been through. She'd only stuck around Nocwich and the Commune infirmary for exactly as long as she needed, vanishing as soon as she could stand reliably again, off to lick her own wounds.

She expects visitors eventually, accidental or not, but the time she spends alone in the aftermath are good for clearing her head. Aloy isn't necessarily pleased to have a visitor, but she's less likely to lash out, with a few days between the ordeal and now tempering things a bit.]

Hey. [She's around the back of the house, and began circling around the front as soon as she heard footsteps. Michael isn't necessarily objectionable, but she still looks a bit confused by the interruption, what seems to be a handcrafted hatchet at her side. Homestead chores, naturally.] Need something?

[Well, no one can say he didn't try. Having an arm severed by an otherwise very personable shark is as far as Michael's patience will carry him. His temper spikes. This behaviour demands correction.

Here in the Horizon, there's nothing that restricts him to human form except common courtesy—and since he's being shown none, he has no reason to be polite. Michael's eyes flash bright blue. The shape of Adam Milligan is consumed by light and Michael expands outwards and upwards, swiftly dwarfing Nanaue. The boundaries of his pseudo-true form are blurry, indistinct; the more Nanaue tries to focus on them, the more complex and headache-inducing they'll become. It's difficult to tell even what colour he is. Either all white, or all black, or both at once. There are several sets of feathered wings, rows of teeth on jaws that don't appear to be connected to anything, and a hundred glaring eyes between his feathers. A halo like an accretion disk circles far above.

Whatever part of him is still between Nanaue's teeth will taste of nothing but feathers and searing holy flame, never meant to grace mortal tongue.

One of the wings twists, rises—then slams down on Nanaue like a hand swatting a mosquito.]

[Michael turns to face the sound of her voice, giving Aloy a quick head to toe look as she comes around the side of the house. His eyes catch on the hatchet. Household chores and self-defense, from his perspective. He was right not to intrude too deeply too quickly.

(It's an idea for a hobby, too, if he ever tires of the usual routine.)]

Not exactly. You were quick to disappear from the medical tents. Some of the locals wanted reassurance you're well. [So far as he can see, that seems to be the case. Perhaps in her case recuperating demanded a bit of solitude.] They also wanted to pass along a few gifts. First, the one I couldn't talk them out of.

[Michael swings the bag off of his shoulder and around front, then reaches inside and pulls out a wreath made of small long bones, middles wrapped in cord to chain them together and then tied into a circle. He holds it out for her to take.]

It goes on your door. Though it seems to me you're perfectly capable of making your own.

[He gives a pointed glance around her camp. If Aloy wants anything made out of animal bone, she's got ample supply of materials.

At least, he assumes the wreath is animal bone. He didn't ask.]

[Aloy does not appear to be unscathed, and does, in fact, looks like could have spent more time in the medical tents. She’s still bandaged, in places, though she also seems determined not to let it bother her. To Micahel’s reasoning, she shrugs.]

I was feeling well enough to leave. Didn’t want to take up the extra resources.

[There were others hurt worse than her, and she’s confident enough in her own constitution to know that she could safely recover at home. The fact that she also hates being under the care of anyone is beside the point—if she can get up and move and work, then that’s what she’s going to do, pushing through any residual symptoms or injury.

Still, she supposes it’s nice of him to check on her, and she doesn’t want to be overly rude when there’s no real reason to. The wreath, however, is regarded with some suspicion.]

Uh, thanks. [Aloy’s clearly not fond of the idea of the commune keeping an eye on her, when one of their own had been responsible for all this, but turning down a gift seems unwise.] Is it enchanted, or something?

[Why else would it go on her door? Well, superstition, probably, but she considers that the same thing.]

[ All the beast sees is light, the kind that burns shapes like flaming shadows on the retinas - except there are no shapes, it's everywhere. By the time the feeding frenzy is overwhelmed by ancient fear response, it's too late. He can't see, he can't taste, he can't even feel the white hot flame of a nuclear core consuming him or, more strangely, the feathers in his teeth - he doesn't even completely register when he's swatted into the air, shooting across the sky of Horizon like a shooting star -

- back in the Primary Settlement, Nanaue startles awake. He's somehow ended up lying down on his back, and he throws his hands over his eyes in distress. ]

Uuuuuhhwaaagghh!

[ Flailing arms and legs, then he's sitting up, breathing heavy and his gills expanding open. His dark eyes dart around until he registers he can see, and there's a figure there. ]

...uoooghhh... ?

[Michael spends a moment tracking the arc of a suddenly very small creature across the Horizon, but when Nanaue blips out of existence, so too does he make his exit. He does not want to leave his body unattended with a creature that now reminds him of the years spent herding leviathans into Purgatory.

Back in the real world, he sighs, still seated on the ground. Somehow, this has gone worse than his own introduction to the Horizon. He hadn't been certain what to expect of Nanaue, but he hadn't expected that.

He looks over at Nanaue with a frown. The memory of teeth on his vessel will be with him forever.]

You're alive. Good.

[There are reasons he doesn't parade around the Horizon in his true form. Not being certain it won't sear the eyes out of onlookers and leave them a smouldering corpse is just one of them.]

[ Nanaue blinks his dark eyes, the whites of them showing at the edges, then he tucks his head down and covers his head. Good? ]

Bad! [ He bit a friend. He's just as stupid and bad as the tiny dumb friends! Now he's going to get in trouble. Nanaue grunts as he uses one meaty fist to hit himself in the side of his head and says forlornly: ]

Me forget... [ Even though he said he wouldn't. Is Michael mad at him now? He lifts his head to try to read his body language. ]

[He's taking a liberal approach to interpreting 'wellness'. She's up and talking, and walking on her own, which is more than can be said of some of the other lost-and-newly-returned. Besides, she and he aren't yet friendly enough for him to be badgering her to get back into bed. Let Aloy be the judge of what she needs.]

I believe it was more of a social sentiment than a matter of resources. Either way, you have an open invitation to visit the Settlement if you need further care or a meal.

[They're being a bit overbearing about it, to be honest, even for someone like Michael who's used to subordinates offering to do whatever they can for him. He's not sure why he's one of the targets of their concern and generosity in the first place. He was was safe in Solvunn while Aloy and the other Lost were crawling around in their damp cave.

To her question, he shakes his head.]

Not so far as I can tell. [And he ought to be able to tell a magical artifact when he sees one.] It's a gesture to request healing and protection from the old gods.

[That part might be true, regardless of what Aloy thinks of the existence of gods. Michael is still unfamiliar with many of Solvunn's religious traditions, but he's a little too deeply connected to that side of life to dismiss all of their practices as superstition.]

[Closed]

Aloy

Wanda

friendship

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

cw for.... trying to eat an angel

no subject

mmm, spicy

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject