EVENT #18: EMERGENCE - IC EVENT LOG

[abraxasmods]

Event #18 - Emergence

OOC Plotting Post ⦁ Pre-Event Info ⦁ Setting Descriptions

Whether voluntary or by force, you find yourself transported to the Singularity's crater. There probably aren't many resistors - officials have taken great pains to convince you to come voluntarily, reserving force as a last resort - but it's clear that everyone is required for this to work. It takes multiple mages to stabilize the portal, but you make it there in one piece. If you cooperate, you'll be asked to walk towards the ancient relic. If you resisted, you might be forced to do so while restrained. Regardless, a heavy fog soon descends around the area, obscuring you and your vision.

If you have thoughts of turning back, it's too late: for some of you, the second you step across the threshold, a force pulls at your chest and absorbs your psyche at once. For others, a mystical call beckons you to walk a little further before the same effect takes hold. And for a rare few, the call brings you to the Singularity itself, where you're compelled to touch it - and are subsequently swallowed up like the others.

The Horizon doesn't greet you like you might expect. Instead, something far stranger awaits.

Please communicate with your fellow players as needed! We also recommend discussing with us if you plan on a major environmental upheaval. As a rule of thumb, you should avoid changes to the landscape that will significantly alter the established map.

We've also posted comment sections for WORLDBUILDING and HANDWAVED submissions. Instructions can be found at the respective links.

Year 20,879

When you open your eyes, it feels like you've only blinked. If your body has transformed or you're someplace that shouldn't exist, it doesn't strike you as odd. You were always here. Everything around you was always here, and your physical alterations and new abilities - while perhaps not originally there - have been a part of you for a long, long time.

The world of Abraxas isn't completely foreign. Familiar territories remain, as well as the familiar faces of those with long lifespans. But a lot has changed in 800 years, too, especially where the Gods are concerned. Alongside the Old Gods of the Ancient Pantheon and the Cardinal Gods of the New Order, a third class of deities formed from you and your fellow Summoned: the Ecesis Gods of the Iterum Pantheon.

Politics, People, & Gods

Abraxas's political landscape remains complex, with continued tensions over land, worship, resources, and power. Nonetheless, since the Free Cities is no longer intent on destroying the Singularity, conflict over the ancient relic has lessened. All territories agree that the Godlands - and the Singularity - belong to the Gods themselves.

Beliefs and Gods

The active presence of the Summoned confirms the existence of the Gods. As a result, most Abraxans turn to the Summoned and other Gods for aid or protection. Extreme reverence exists in certain areas, especially on the Isle of the Lost and in parts of Solvunn. In other places, though, the Gods are merely acknowledged as a facet of life - a force that helps or hinders depending on temperament and should be respected, much like the sea. The Gods play a crucial role, sure, but so do the rain and stars. This is particularly true in the Feywilds, the Nether, and the Free Cities.

Small pockets of non-believers actively denounce the Gods. They claim the Summoned should be wiped from the world and the Singularity destroyed to prevent future invasions. Labeled dangerous heretics by Thorne and Solvunn, and "regressives" by the Free Cities - whose scientists and philosophers liken such thinking to be as foolish as declaring the sun unworthy or the earth to be flat - these people are shunned from society. In Solvunn, the consequences are more severe: heretics are exiled to the Barren, where they are subsumed by the desert, the Maw, or whichever Gods may punish them.

At the other end, some sects revere the Godlands so much that they believe feeding themselves to the relic will enhance Abraxas' good fortune for generations to come. Such cults are quite rare, but there are reports of mortals throwing themselves into the Singularity's crater and disintegrating as a gesture of their devotion to the divine.

International Relations

Due to the combined change in their priorities, Thorne and the Free Cities are less at odds. The Free Cities believes in protecting the Singularity; Thorne no longer seeks to control it. Nonetheless, mistrust flares on occasion.

While things are peaceful during these three months and have been for a few decades, Abraxas hasn't found a cure for war in the Gods. Conflict has broken out in the past and will again. Eyes are on the Nether as it grows in power, and who knows how long Thorne will be content with its losses? Will they convince the Velan Republic to reunite and turn against the Free Cities? For now, though, the territories have found their stride and appear more interested in progress than fighting.

Magic & The Singularity

Magic is relatively unchanged and is a vital part of Abraxan life. The small kingdom of Thorne continues to practice Academic Magic. Meanwhile, Wild Magic plays the same important role in the Velan Republic (formally Nott). Meanwhile, the Free Cities has developed New Magic further. The goal of decoupling magic from technology is less of a focus. Instead, researchers are eager to find new ways to fuse magic and innovation, including aspects of the Gods. Portable shrines, for example, are popular with traveling merchants.

High Magic no longer exists as a specific school of magic now that offerings, pacts, and requests to the Gods are a part of everyday life across Abraxas. Solvunn has returned to its roots, using the ancient Academic Magic practiced by the Lunae for standard tasks while turning to the Gods for greater blessings.

The Singularity has been relatively stable for the past two or three centuries. While occasional disturbances rumble, for the most part, the presence of the Summoned has strengthened it, alleviating its displeasure and ensuring that Abraxas - and possibly the universe itself - continues to exist. Indeed, academic writings from Thorne and the Free Cities across time suggest that the Singularity's devouring of the world has considerably slowed. It is now as much of a threat as the eventual collapse of the sun, something that is bound to occur but not for eons.

Of course, this could quickly change if the Summoned or any other Gods provoke the Singularity by rejecting its connection or denying its magic...so all should take care not to upset the nature of things.

Old World, New World

The map of Abraxas has undergone some notable shifts, although many names and places are the same.

Setting descriptions are HERE for your reference.

Mechapolis, the Witchwood, and the Barren/the Maw contain prompts related to the event itself. Information about those areas can be found under "Exploring the Land" in the section The World as the Divine (Month 1-2).

Month 1-2: Submersion

What do you last remember? Well, that depends. You might recall most things perfectly clearly. You might have new memories that don't feel new at all. Or, you might only remember the most recent year or two. Regardless, there is something missing: an important face, a handful of key events...maybe you don't remember having ever lived anywhere except Abraxas. You might find this unsettling, or you might accept it as just the way things are.

You've transcended those old memories, anyhow. You feel a little distant from the person you were centuries ago, and you most likely look different, too. Perhaps you've sprouted giant wings, become a formless void, or you're now a shapeshifter with no permanent appearance. You've gained a substantial amount of power and influence, the type that people of this world attribute to the Gods.

The first half is a more sandbox-like environment designed for scenarios that emphasize CR and personal character moments. Active conflict between the emergent reality and the world will not arise until the second half.

The World as the Divine

The mortals have bestowed you with a title and possibly a new alias. Do you know your mortal name anymore? Some of you might've taken on a new identity, or you might have held very tightly onto who you were. Regardless, your abilities have grown. Your new powers and appearance are as unique as your dominion, influenced by your interests, subconscious desires, or personal relationships.

While in your full God form, you'll move through the world unperceived. Only when you're sought by a mortal - followers, believers, cultists - can you consciously make your complete divine presence known. To be seen freely by all, you'll have to take on a less overwhelming shape to the mortal gaze. Those who have met the Old Gods or Cardinal Gods in the past finally understand why they seldom reveal their true selves, often arriving in hazy visions or speaking through animals.

Exploring the Land

◎ The Witchwood

As the Summoned continued to ascend, their power began to coalesce, creating a new ecosystem never seen before. The dense woods, originally a temperate climate, warmed and grew into a thriving jungle. The air is humid and heavy with magic, the sky locked into an eternal sunset. Reds and oranges filter through the thick canopy. Birdcall and animal cries echo throughout the jungle. Trees and rocks seemingly move at night, meaning the Witchwood is impossible to map. Foolhardy souls who venture too deep are rarely seen again - unless divine intervention prevents a tragic fate from befalling them. Perhaps one of those intervening Gods is you?

The most dangerous beasts in the Witchwood are the demigod spawns. Creatures born from the Summoned, demigods are powerful enough to affect the world around them should they ever leave the magic-encased forest. See Impact & Consequences for more details on the demigods and how, as the Summoned, you can help maintain Abraxas' ecosystem.

◎ Mechapolis

Heartwood Syndrome persisted in Fomalhaut long after the quarantined population died out. The port city stood as a monument to loss for nearly a century until about 200 years in when the Summoned gained notable influence as Gods. This resulted in a slow but steady acceptance of the Singularity's power as a positive force for potential advancement. New Magic boomed, leading to increased sophistication in technology and the refinement of automatons.

Originally designed to clear and guard Fomalhaut, they were eventually used to rebuild it. Fomalhaut became known as the City of Machines and was renamed Mechapolis. Although humans are barred from entering for safety, the automatons gather soil and air samples for study and perform fishing duties. The clockworks require routine maintenance and must return to a hub city or outpost for recalibration. Clockwork birds are used to communicate with Mechapolis. They can broadcast through the Free Cities's primitive "radio" towers.

You can enhance clockwork performance, boosting the towers or providing additional energy to the automatons. Scientists often have "rituals" when performing maintenance or experiments to earn the Gods' favor, hoping this will prevent their inventions from breaking down.

◎ The Barren/The Badlands

Once contested territory between Thorne and the Free Cities, the Badlands was split into two by a large ravine shortly after Thorne retreated to Hayle. With neither side able to breach the gap, Solvunn naturally laid claim to the western half while the Free Cities retained its eastern half. On the eastern side, the chasm swallowed several well-known bandit camps and the presence of a new entity further drove them away. Bandits now occupy the mountains northeast of Aquila. Due to the entity's threat, the Free Cities increased its military presence in the Badlands to keep careless or foolish travelers from straying too far.

Meanwhile, Solvunn has named its portion of the wasteland the Barren and sought the Gods' assistance to form an enchanted forest. Those who enter are lost forever. Meant for more than just protection, the forest and the Barren serve as a place of exile. Heretics are taken into the woods and left to wander towards the Barren's harsh desert. There, they will face the elements, be devoured by the waiting Maw...or encounter a God.

As a God, you can lead the exiles to their salvation or doom, but choose carefully: the Maw is hungry and must be fed. These exiles want you dead. They don't care for you, and should their lack of faith spread, they might revive attempts to destroy the Singularity - and with it, your home. Is it so wrong to leave them to their fate? On the other hand, saving them might convert them by demonstrating your kindness.

◎ The Maw

The Maw lurks beneath the chasm dividing the Badlands. Named for its gaping jaws, the Maw waits at the widest part of a jagged canyon, mouth open and salivating in the desert heat. Rows and rows of teeth as tall as a man spiral downward into a bloodshot throat. When sated, it retreats deep into the gully, barely visible aside from the shine of a tooth. When hungry, it draws closer to the surface. Hot and heavy winds often carry the putrid scent of its half-digested meals.

Solvunn is not the only territory that uses the Maw. The Free Cities will occasionally march criminals and bandits in that direction, as well, tossing them into the gaping mouth, although this method of execution is much rarer. Desperate exiles from Solvunn will try to cross the chasm despite the danger. None ever make it - at least, not without divine intervention.

Horizon, "Death," and Dormancy

Your domain in the Horizon is no longer constrained by size. How it's changed depends on you. The more detached from your mortality, the more likely it'll have surrealist elements: bizarre statues, physics-defying architecture, odd visual or psychological effects. The Horizon feels like home to all Gods, although you ought to take care not to heed its call beyond reason. Shutting yourself off from the physical world can result in unintended consequences...but completely refusing to enter the Horizon will do the same.

Additionally, Gods are beyond true death, but that doesn't mean you can act with impunity. Engaging in an exhaustive battle with other Gods can weaken you into dormancy. In this state, you will enter an ethereal void inside the Singularity. As you heal, you'll slowly be able to return to your Horizon domain and then the physical world once more. Depending on the extent of the damage, this process could take anywhere from months to decades. For instance, losing your head could take a few months, total dismemberment might take a year, and being vaporized into atoms can take a few decades.

Mortals cannot achieve this level of damage, even if they seemingly "succeed" in striking true. Only a God can weaken another God into dormancy. If a mortal removes your head, you can merely pick it up and put it back on.

Impact & Consequences

In the early years of your ascension, you might've wondered why the existing Gods seemingly intervened so little. Why did they not demonstrate their powers more blatantly over the thousands of years? Is it apathy? A desire to watch rather than act? As you come into your abilities, you realize that the Singularity and the universe are significantly more delicate than you thought. You begin to understand why the Gods have behaved the way they do.

Of course, whether you care to keep the world (and yourself) in balance is another story, but to be sure, some of the other Gods and the Summoned do - and you may have to defend your choices.

The equilibrium mechanic is described in OOC terms HERE. The Singularity and a character's ascension will not inherently sway them one way or the other. Any temptations will result from individual personality and development.

Instability Effects

To maintain the universe's equilibrium, you need to be cautious of when and how you interfere when using your status to alter the state of the world. Conversely, you'll also need to take care not to withdraw entirely. Several Gods have undergone periods of instability, though others haven't. Which category you fall under is up to you. It depends on who you are, your experiences, and your desires.

◎ Should you refuse to ACKNOWLEDGE your Godhood or enter the Horizon, you'll find yourself losing time. You may forget how you got from one place to another, or names you knew yesterday slip your mind. Lapses in memory or time can be temporary or permanent, but one thing they are is certainly confusing. With magic building inside you and nowhere for it to go, your power will begin to spill over, causing the Singularity to exhibit bursts of power that spawn demigods in the Witchwood.

◎ Should you give into the temptation to OVERINDULGE your Godhood or retreat to the Horizon for excessive periods, you'll lose more of yourself and your history. You may make decisions that feel unlike you, forget larger chunks of old memories, or struggle to distinguish what's real. Unrestrained use of magic will cause you to absorb yet more power, causing the Singularity to lose power in brief spurts, which can spawn demigods in the Witchwood.

These effects can be halted or even reversed in some cases. You might need someone's help to bring you back or convince you there's another way, or maybe you're the one seeking others out to assist. What you do soon understand is that your ability to manage your powers and stabilize your connection to the Horizon directly affects the Singularity and Abraxas...something that may have been true the moment you were summoned.

Demigod Spawns

Under the red haze of the Witchwood, monstrous creatures known as demigods or spawns emerge from crimson waterfalls and claw their out through the mossy soil. Born out of instabilities caused by careless actions from all Gods, they're usually contained to the Witchwood. For the most part, the older Gods - and the Summoned, if they choose - keep the demigods from leaving. However, now and again, one or two might escape, damaging towns, destroying villages, or causing ecological destruction in ways that are similar to natural disasters.

Demigods are not sentient. How they look can vary, but their appearances are often corrupted and disturbing: twisted animals, amorphous blobs, or alien-like parasites. They may resemble a monster you recognize from home.

Defeating one is possible but a challenge even for the Gods. Most crucially, you cannot kill your own spawn. Another God must deliver the killing blow, so working together is imperative. Should too many demigod spawns be allowed to invade the Witchwood, they will overwhelm and disrupt the Singularity further. Culling them is the only way to maintain stability.

You can submit demigod spawns you create to the WORLDBUILDING section if you want. Similar to using character powers, just keep the scale of destruction at a reasonable level.

Hearing Echoes

Echoes are a form of prayer that resonates through your connection with the Singularity. Solvunn has dedicated a monument to where the "First Echo" was heard, though the accuracy of this is debatable. Like the Network, you can hear an Echo regardless of where you are and can shut them out with concentration. However, your ties to Godhood may compel you to listen every so often. Mortals can entreat you through more formal methods (rituals, offerings, seasonal ceremonies) or in a moment of duress or desperation. They may seek you specifically or call to any God who will listen.

You can answer or ignore these cries for help as you like, but your choices carry consequences. Answer too many too eagerly, and your increased interference in mortal lives can upset the world's equilibrium - and the Singularity. Ignore your impact on the world, and your refusal to accept your ascension will equally destabilize the land as prayers go unheard.

Interacting with Other Gods

The Old Gods and the Cardinal Gods are an equal part of this world. For the most part, you coexist peacefully, though personal pacts and tensions can play a role. Each of you is aware of the impact of your actions on the Singularity: extreme displays of power are reserved for substantial transgressions, considering the price it carries.

Further, the older Gods have also walked the earth for centuries before you came. To them, you're still young, and rising against one of them won't end well for you. Nonetheless, many older Gods are more interested in giving advice or guiding you, ensuring the health of the Singularity and the universe so as not to doom all of you - Gods and mortals alike - to the void.

You can REQUEST AN INTERACTION with a God. Interactions will be brief but informative.

You will not be able to request a specific God. For logistical reasons, we have curated the list of Gods available ahead of time. However, we'll do our best to pick one from the pool that suits the purpose of your request.

Month 3: Awakening

Over the past 2 months, you've existed in the emergent reality without question. As you enter the third month, however, everything you've known over the past many centuries begins to shift. You might decide to investigate further, wondering if there's more out there that you aren't seeing. Alternatively, you might choose to ignore it, believing that your awakening is damaging the world and your life.

Catalysts

A catalyst can occur at any time through any circumstance. Do you see a familiar face you've forgotten in the eyes of a stranger? Do you recall a moment in your past while watching the mortals? Has a friend approached you specifically to try and remind you of the things you've forgotten?

With each memory returned you'll gain another piece of yourself. Depending on how much you've lost and how hard you'll cling to this reality, the effect may be clarifying or it might cause you distress and confusion. You might begin to encounter temporal cracks: buildings or areas that normally don't exist will flicker in and out of existence, or your reflection will briefly show an image of you from before your transformations took hold.

If you allow yourself to doubt your abilities or divinity, you might have trouble controlling your powers. If you've made alterations to your Horizon domain, it might start to revert to its original design.

These cracks are difficult to ignore, but if you bury your head, you can make them disappear - briefly, at least.

Shattered Skies

The effects go beyond the individual. As more of you and your fellow Gods reawaken, the sky also begins to form cracks that spread like broken glass. Through the fractures, you glimpse flashes of lightning and a swirling fog. The fissures only grow larger.

Soon, you realize you can see the Singularity itself, reflected upside-down in the crater. Disconcerting though it is, it may serve as proof that something is very wrong. Of course, you can also refuse to acknowledge this disturbance, closing your eyes to the crumbling sky. Doing so will let you remain unaware to the very end, but your friends who are seeking the truth might find your denial distressing.

The sky won't hold, though. Eventually, it does shatter completely - and you awaken abruptly, your body and others scattered several feet away from the Singularity's crater as if you were physically thrown out. The fog begins to dissipate. The lightning has stopped, the unrelenting storms fading across Abraxas. Whatever you went through, it seems to have done exactly what the territories hoped: stabilize the Singularity.

Characters will be returned home afterward. They will be thanked for their assistance regardless of if they cooperated.

Resistors will not face any consequences, as long as they don't cause excessive trouble upon their return. Officials will issue an apology for the heavy-handed action, stating that they saw no other way to keep the world safe. With the portals and weather returning to normal, it does seem to have worked...even if characters may not find the method agreeable.

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Comments

percy jackson | riordanverse | herald of telluric springs

[seaweedbrain]

( handy links: plotting 🔱 au info 🔱 assignment
contact: thwip | PM | discord [feel free to ask!] )

the past — ;

[seaweedbrain]

( for any moments that occur before the event, during the first 800 years. )

months 1 + 2 — ;

[seaweedbrain]

( submersion: ota + closed starters below. )

a fishing trip with brother dirt — cassian ;

[seaweedbrain]

[ The weather on the sea today is almost intentional, warm enough to do without a jacket, and a little overcast to keep the brightness of the sun from glaring across the surface of the water.

Perhaps it might have a little something to do with the young man sitting in a simple wood-constructed boat, a box of bait and tackle next to him while he readjusts his fishing pole for a little more bait. When it comes to the seas, they might as well be an extension of his very existence; he can feel every ripple, every splash, every bubble in the water as though it were his own beating heart. And besides which, he's done this now on many, many occasions over the years, leading a small boat out into the sea for hours, donning what amounts to a fantasy-land style of cargo pants with an accompanying fishing vest decked in countless pockets.

Some might even call this a hobby, if gods still had those. He isn't sure, but they must if Cassian is here too, having agreed to join him.

The Herald of Telluric Springs, or sometimes 'Percy' to his close friends and family, still looks like he could be in his early twenties (his preferred appearance when away from his temples or not answering echoes) with his dark windswept hair, tanned skin, and sea-green eyes focused now on finding the right spot to cast his line.

He only half-glances in Cassian's direction to note him doing the same. ]

After all these years, now you finally look like you're a natural.

[ He grins now, teasing. ]

[diametrically]

[ In the past Cassian (Andor, El Povo, Brother Dirt or whatever awful name that is in fashion that century) spent waking moments of consciousness wondering if there was more to his existence than wandering this mortal plane until he returns to dust. How does one live from waking moment until the inevitable end? Hobbies felt like a silly thing to have when he doesn't know if tomorrow is the day the he'll end up giving himself all away for a cause. Still, some gods partook in hobbies, in life with reckless abandon in order to fill their days.

There were some years where he was envious of that freedom; envious of those that were able to build lives in spite of the horror of the years that stretched beyond them both god and mortal alike. They were not without their hardships however and he knows that, but sometimes, he wonders what it would be like to have other things to live for that are not just his powers. But it's only dawned on him recently that he does and it had been stupid of him to think otherwise, to dedicate all of his life to a relentless cause made up all on his own. He has plenty to live for, like a family (in his sister made of stars, in Percy, Annabeth, Istredd and Jack), like friends, all of who wanted him to stay. Now all he had to do was learn how not to give all of himself away. Which somehow translated into learning how to enjoy hobbies. Like fishing.

He offers the younger god a slight huff and a good natured side-eye of his own as he deftly attaches the live bait to the tackle before casting it off into the brilliant blue yonder that is the ocean. ]

You try spending several decades sleeping. Not all of us can be god of the sea and spend most of our time out here.

[seaweedbrain]

[ Percy laughs, with equal good nature, before he follows suit a short moment later, casting a line a little distance away from Cassian's so as not to confuse the fish.

(Or worse: scare them off.)

Then again, fishing isn't always about the actual capture of said fish. Sometimes he really does like to sit out here with a rod and bait, under an overcast sky and in calm waters and just ... exist.

He thinks about this boat and the water, and how comfortable he feels here — if anything, these days he spends a whole lot more time in the water than out of it, unless he's with his wife or any of his friends and family because they need him — and he thinks that Cassian's probably got a point. ]

Yeah, I guess I do have it pretty good. [ At least for the moment, he has little to complain about. ] You ever thought about keeping an alarm clock with you?

[diametrically]

[ There's several beats after he casts his line before he remembers that the whole point of this is to relax. Cassian tries to adjust himself, tucking the rod in place between his knees before shrugging off his dusty coat. The linen shirt that he wears beneath doesn't provide much warmth (for some mysterious reason he's always run a little cold), but there's a pleasant sensation as the slight breeze skips across the waters to meet them.

Someone who's lived the life that Cassian does could easily be bitter about the good fortunes of others both mortal or god alike. But the faint smile that flits to his face is anything but. The last thing he'd want is for anyone, particularly those closest to him to have to go through what he's gone through. If this is Percy's life - he's glad for it.

Unrelated however he lightly adds - ]

Objects don't stay with me. 

[ They'd tried any number of ways to try and ensure that he recalled his memories sooner rather than later - tattoos, notes, any manner of enchanted items. All of them were left behind when his body inevitably turned to dust. ]

Maybe I should take up the Machinist on his offer to replace some part of me. Thoughts?

[seaweedbrain]

Yeah, I was kinda joking. Admittedly, not a great joke.

[ Percy has known this particular characteristic about Cassian for some time now, of course. It's hard not to know when you're a part of each other's lives for the long-haul, and he knows that there had been a time when Cassian was dependably there, caring for the bloodline that he and Annabeth used to have before they were eventually left with only each other.

It doesn't diminish the importance of Cassian's role in their lives though, or how much Percy has come to care for the other man. The fickle nature of his memories, the way his form had always been a little more volatile than Percy's ... it wasn't uncommon for Cassian to show up with spots in his memory missing and the necessity to slot those pieces back in through reminders and stories and a little bit of godly magic, a process that both Percy and Annabeth had become familiar with over the centuries.

He's curious now, studying his face for a sign of a gotcha, hidden behind his usually stoic, stone-faced features. ]

And what does that entail, exactly?

[diametrically]

[ Percy's joke might not have been very good but just you wait. Cassian is coming for you with a real zinger. ]

I never told you this but I think it's your poor joke-telling skills that help me remember who you are.

[ The corners of his lips tug a little higher at that, giving away that he is in no way serious about that. It means more to him than he thinks he's capable of expressing that Annabeth and Percy still, after all these years, are (mostly) patient with him as his memories return to him. In the same vein, it pains him to know that he might recall more about their children than they do now.

It's a thought he doesn't linger on for too long for it feels like it has no place on this quiet little boat.

What he is perhaps willing to entertain however is this passing thought of Viktor changing him in some way. Were not for the fact that he was already prickly about how spotty of a memory he already possessed, he might have considered Viktor trying to do something about his mind. ]

Maybe an alarm clock for a heart? It could jolt it back to life.

[seaweedbrain]

Oh, ha ha. [ Well, that's just rude.

Except Percy looks as though he's about to laugh, which betrays his intent to be unimpressed. ] Guess you've also been picking up a little comedy, huh?

[ He shakes his head instead. Yeah, all right, Uncle Dusty. You get this one.

Of course, it's not all jokes as Percy considers the idea of a contraption that could shock Cassian back to life, or back from wherever he goes when his form turns to dust. Truthfully Percy has never asked about the process or how it feels; he isn't sure whether it's painful or whether there's really any way at all to control it. He'd only ever made sure Cassian knew that when he did come back, he and Annabeth would be there for him no matter what. ]

Like a really intense pacemaker? I mean, do you think something like that would work?

even gods can hang out — steve h. ;

[seaweedbrain]

[ They've crossed paths on plenty occasions over the centuries.

At the beginning it had mostly been because he would see Clarisse with him, the two becoming fast friends and allies. They'd catch up, often with a joke, a good (or gruesome) story, or an exasperated complaint. God responsibilities and all that they entailed were hardly what any of them had signed up for, for no other reason than there were plenty of other things they would rather do; and what a waste of a perfectly good power to use towards responding to echoes and prayers.

It was still new, too easy to get caught up in the power of it. But they learned, and things had changed of course — and their abilities and echoes and holding onto the weight of responsibility like a gold coin (a drachma, even) in a pocket, buried deep but always there; it was all simply a part of keeping balance between the gods and their patrons. But running into Steve became a constant across a long stretch of time.

Now it happens on the shoreline towards the south of Solvunn, at the outer fringes of the second settlement. It's the large blade strapped to the back of a seemingly normal, even mortal-looking, figure that catches his attention first. Of course, the man is anything but normal or mortal. While Percy doesn't specifically seek the other god out at first, when they meet eyes he pulls himself further from the water, the edges of him shimmering with the rippling tide, his great form diminished a little to match Steve's size.

Despite his generally imposing appearance (on a currently smaller scale), there's the recognizable spark of the boy from some distant past in the ocean god's bright green eyes.

He chuckles now, teasing. ]

Out for a run?

[hairington]

[ at first it almost felt borne out of necessity - or, perhaps, that was just how he and clarisse came into each other's orbit. called upon the same echoes, present on the same battle fields, usually the ones who remained - swords in hand. his friendship with clarisse was one that even steve couldn't explain, not really, but as the decades piled onto each other and centuries started to pass, it became less of something he needed to explain and more something that just is.

which, of course, means that he's well aware of her demigod family - or, rather, were demigods before and are now just as godly as the rest of them. once upon a time, steve had been uncertain of it all - godly parents, impressive powers, and the fact they all still seemed just like kids anyway. it was refreshing, something that helped keep him anchored even as things continues to change. to build. as their powers and responsibilities became more and more necessary, as they start to take their own shapes within their own domains.

steve does not find himself drawn to the abstract, his powers and skills growing with the years, but his appearance shifting only ever so slightly. his sword is larger, more impressive, more powerful - and his power, his ability in battle, that has grown too. but he does find himself taking to his mortal form more often than not, wandering abraxas like he was still limited to solvunn, to his one side of the continent. his feet might take him further, for longer, than any of the locals - but he still takes the walk.

and his walk, today, has him along the beach. he's headed to a small village along the coast, still quite a ways from here - but he knows the moment he senses the shift in the water that it may be longer still. the waves build, form, and somewhere amid the spray steve can make out just enough of a figure of a boy, of sea green eyes. he smiles. ]

Something like that. [ his hands go to his belt, hook through the leather out of habit. a pause in his travels. ] What about you? Out for a swim?

[seaweedbrain]

[ By the time the Herald has fully stepped out of the surf and onto the sands, he looks a lot more like the half-human, half-god boy 'Percy' from centuries ago. It's still a form he takes every now and then with the people he's come to call his own: friends, family, loved ones; it's friendlier, and recognizable. ]

Sure.

[ His grin widens a little, and he approaches Steve to offer a hand in friendly greeting first — and a hug, if Steve is still into that kind of thing.

As for the rest of it ... well, he'd be happy to accompany Steve for a little bit in the direction of wherever he's going. It's not like Percy has anywhere specific to be, and there is usually some large body of saltwater close enough for him to get to. ]

Can't get enough of the water. Besides, it's great for cardio.

[hairington]

[ as the herald shifts, shrinking down to something closer to what steve knows, what steve is, steve let’s the grin split his face. there’s a familiarity to this version of percy - and while he knows most of the other summoned have grown not to care for these more…mortal images of themselves, steve prefers it.

they do hug - in that sort or one arm around the others shoulders kind of way. friends.

steve shakes his head and huffs and a laugh. ] Gotta stay in shape. [ he gestures down the beach, which percy may or may not know leads to a village down that way. ]

I’m headed down that way, answering an echo, if you’ve got a little time on your hands.

[seaweedbrain]

Even gods can't get away with letting themselves go.

[ He gets it. There's no excuse, not even for a god, to stray into unhealthy habits of lying around drinking and doing not much else.

Not that Percy or the Herald partakes in a whole lot of that anyway. (And if the familiarity of a figure fitting that description seems to niggle something in the back of his mind, well. He forgets it immediately as unimportant.)

He nods now, following Steve's gesture towards the cluster of trees, and the village nestled somewhere beyond them. He'd been by it plenty of times himself, thought not so much recently. It's not a bad idea to stretch his land-legs. ]

Sure. I'd like to see the great god Steve in action. What's the echo? Anything exciting?

[hairington]

Can that even happen? Or does everyone's powers just sorta...

[ he gestures, waving his hand around like some kind of magic trick. over the years it's been hard not to notice the way everyone's powers, singularity-gifted, abraxas-learned, or otherwise, have grown. things have gotten easier, forms less constricted to being merely human, and while steve doesn't really remember being anything other than summoned - there's no denying the difference of now and centuries before.

percy nods, and steve starts walking - falling into an easy, casual pace with percy at his side. steve knows where this town is, has been to it a time or two over the years, though not from this way. he snorts a bit at the mention of 'god steve'. ]

Dunno. [ steve's eyes scan the trees as they walk - always on guard in some way, even if he seems pretty casual about it all. ] It's a villager asking protection for their crops and farm animals. Apparently something's been rooting around, and they've lost some goats lately. [ steve's connection to the god of small deeds tends to keep getting him called to even smaller jobs, but truth be told - and it may be something percy can understand - he's been bored as of late. might have been looking for something to do. ] It's close enough to the Witchwood that I like to check it out, just in case. It could be a bear, I know, but it also could be...

[ well, something else. ]

[seaweedbrain]

I actually don't know. My guess is 'no' but sometimes we like to think we're still a little mortal, even if only in spirit.

[ Perhaps it's the reason why he still assumes this form whenever he pops on land, his more natural (these days) form being a little less easy to stomach for the mortals, and obviously a little harder to blend in to the nearby villages without calling for an audience.

But they begin to walk and Percy finds that it's the quiet moments like this one that he misses when he's below the ocean. He's never truly wet in the way that regular humans are when they go swimming, not unless he chooses to be, but it's different up here. The air is crisp and cool against his skin, and he can smell so many different things: the lift of the ocean's salt, the sharp sweetness from the foliage of the trees, and the deep roundness of the smell of the earth. None of it is new but it's a nice bit of variety. ]

Hm. [ He looks thoughtful, taking in the task at hand. ] Glad you called for back-up then. [ There's a little grin tossed Steve's way, but the offer is serious. If it does become a matter of anything beyond a harmless creature to shoo away, Percy's got Steve's back.

Just like old times. ]

time-out — aloy ;

[seaweedbrain]

[ For the most part the Herald of Telluric Springs would consider himself a fair god, someone who sees the good in his followers, and tries to maintain a sense of balance in his decisions. Travelers (whether they are fishermen, pirates, or the stranded hoping to reunite with their families) will often come to him in hopes that praying to him will grant them a safe journey across the waters.

But as the long centuries pass, so does the nuance in a number of said decisions. The clarity and understanding (and sympathy) for mortal lives has worn down, smoothed over like sea-glass. He is a god, after all; and what power he has is great. It's wild and untamed, and he is a part of that fabric just as much as it's a part of him.

He forgets that sometimes mortals can be foolish, and they make the wrong decisions, and sometimes their foolishness isn't actually a sign of disrespect but an oversight. It isn't meant to offend the gods — it isn't meant to offend him.

It seems that even gods can be subject to a good lesson every now and then, and what Aloy will observe is this: the Herald, in all of his monstrous eldritch glory shows his form to the cocky little traveler, alone in his fishing boat. He has every intention of destroying it, destroying him, and sending him out to sea, so far that no soul would ever find his bones while the traveler cowers in his tiny shelter, shouting apologies.

The Herald ignores him. ]

Your disrespect has been noted.

[ The Herald's voice booms, in time to the heavy storm that gathers around him, clouds turning a dark black as the rains start to pour, sharp like little needles over the mortal below. ]

month 3 — ;

[seaweedbrain]

( awakening: catalysts and nightmares and realizations, oh my! )

awakening — clarisse ;

[seaweedbrain]

[ It starts with a simple request.

The Herald of Telluric Springs hears the summons from an old friend, the ruby-scaled dragon that calls herself 'Theritas' — but he remembers her as Clarisse. She wants to talk, and the Herald sees no reason to find the ask suspicious.

They meet a little way out from the shoreline near the northern tip of the Godlands looking out towards the Isle of the Lost, now shrouded in a blanket of cloud cover and the approaching sunset. It's quiet here and their proximity to the holy place might strike him as slightly strange, certainly outside of their usual routine, but it occurs to him that in eight hundred years they never really had much of a routine anyway.

Much of their history has been smudged away by the centuries: how they met, how they'd become friends, how and why they managed to maintain a friendship over eight hundred years. All that really matters is that they did.

In the earlier years, Clarisse had been witness to the birth of his children, watching them grow and eventually die. She had seen the rise in his power, and he in hers, and they'd fought alongside each other to keep their spawn at bay over the centuries, to avoid a few too many escaping the Witchwood and into the rest of the country. They laughed, they drank, they showed off their temples, and recited their recent feats.

And so, the Herald has no reason to expect anything other than a catch-up. ]

You wanted to talk.

[ His great, eldritch god-form diminishes in favour of a friendlier, more familiar face — that of a young man with striking sea-green eyes. With centuries of life behind him and no end to the years in sight, there's an unspeakable depth in his gaze when he offers Clarisse a smile. ]

[areou]

( she almost wants to laugh (or maybe cry, or maybe laugh and cry) when percy smiles at her. it's a strange sort of relief to see his face, even if she's seen it countless times over the — no, not centuries. none of that actually happened. but it still feels different, to see him now and remember their real history together (the turbulent and arduous years of getting to this point of understanding one another), not just the vague feeling of familiarity — it's a bit like looking at a book that's been sitting open forever and finally being able to read it. she returns his smile, all clarisse and none of what she thought she was, though hers is slightly strained, frayed with nerves she's still trying to swallow. )

Actually, I want to show you something. ( because talking hadn't exactly worked with annabeth. percy might be an easier nut to crack, but she's still not taking any chances. she needs this to work so she can stop feeling so fucking crazy. she gestures to the small island in the distance. the isle of the lost, they call it. she's heard the stories, of course (or, at least, the stories are etched into her memory, just like all the other fake bullshit this reality keeps trying to convince her is real, and she has to wonder if this is the mist after all), she'd just never bothered to visit until recently.

clarisse isn't a planner, not like annabeth is. she understands strategy, she just doesn't often employ it, because it takes too long and she trusts her instincts more than her brain. but this time she has an idea, no doubt sprouting from her own unspoken fear that she's going to be left alone in this fabricated plane of existence with friends who are not her real friends anymore. fear, she realizes, is the key. she remembers her awful brothers phobos and deimos, how they'd toyed with her and percy's minds, made them see things that weren't real. this whole reality may as well be one of their illusions. she can use that. she just has to show percy, rather than tell him.

the isle of the lost is nothing like staten island (can anything really come close to staten island?) — but she hopes that between getting there and seeing what she's left there that it's enough. she loops her arm through his, casual in a way that's familiar and yet somehow unexpected for her. she rarely makes physical contact like this unless it's serious or necessary. right now, it's a little bit of both. )

Can you get us over there? ( she asks to percy, not to the herald he thinks he's become. it's not entirely a rhetorical question — obviously she knows full well what he's capable of — but she wants to gauge his reaction first. )

[seaweedbrain]

[ If Percy notices the strange way Clarisse smiles, he doesn't make any obvious note of it. He looks instead towards the Isle of the Lost some ways away from where they stand now, the surface of the island dotted with trees and a modest village. Several little figures the size of specks move about — no doubt its inhabitants.

He frowns a little, but he's willing to go with whatever Clarisse has planned. At least for now. ]

I ... can.

[ Obviously he can, and they both know it. He could lift entire waves up like a great wet and watery blanket, and drench the entire mound of land if he so chooses. That's the breadth of his power, which has only increased in the last eight centuries. ]

But why go there? The cult that makes their home there, they're a little weird. Unless you mean to clear them off that land.

[ By now the tales surrounding the island have long since faded away, reduced to campfire stories and myths that mortal parents tell their mortal children, which was all a bit funny when the gods — their pantheon — clearly exist and have no need for stories like that. ]

[areou]

( it's less resistance than she expected, which she's silently grateful for — she doesn't want to have to start a fight about this, but she will as a last resort, if it comes to that. )

Just — trust me. Okay? ( no, she isn't going to elaborate. that's where the trust part comes in. she steels her gaze as if to say after everything we've been through, you're not drawing the line here, are you? but she's also not taking no for an answer, and percy has always been easier to push around than annabeth. she tugs on his arm, pulling him toward the shoreline. ) Come on, Prissy Pants. ( which is strikingly not something god-clarisse would call him or has ever called him. she isn't bothering to keep up any pretenses. she's addressing him exactly the way she would address (well, needle) the real percy. ) Don't worry about the cultists. They won't bother us.

( she knows this because she's already been over there, convinced the locals to help her build something important and fuck off for a while, and they'd agreed because they could sense her connection to the singularity or whatever the fuck, and she hadn't corrected them about being one of the summoned-turned-gods because she needed their help, and they had been humbled and honored and clarisse had tried not to gag while they constructed her design with such reverence — but percy doesn't need to know all that. )

[seaweedbrain]

— what?

[ Well, there's a nickname he's never heard of, and that does give him pause. He doesn't resist, not yet, and it's the intensity of her gaze that reminds him to trust her; after all, it's been centuries of a long-standing friendship to back those feelings up.

But it strikes him as both odd and bold to change things up with what sounds to him like ... a bit of an insult. If she wanted to challenge him to a sparring match, she knows he would easily agree. They've always been fun, even if any nearby village tended to see the unfortunate consequences of their competition on a few too many occasions.

Still, when he lifts a hand to call upon the ocean, it's with the intent to get them safely across in mind — and the niggling at the back of his thoughts remains quiet for now. The ocean doesn't quite part so much as it begins to form a solidified pathway between them and the Isle up ahead. ]

Okay. Hold on to me and I'll get us across.

[areou]

( don't worry about the nickname, percy. just go with the flow. she hadn't expected it to be as easy as name calling, either, so she isn't surprised when he barely questions it. but is pointedly not going to engage or try to explain. she has a job to do, and she isn't about to get sidetracked with an erroneous conversation about whether or not she's insulting him. (she is and she isn't. that's just how they are.)

she drags his free arm behind her with little regard for what might be considered manhandling (she would say this barely qualifies) and secures her own arm around his waist, something like fastening two seatbelts, then latches her other hand to the slope of his shoulder, giving it a quick pat as if to say giddyup. )

Ready when you are, Jackson.