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.

---

Comments

cassian andor | star wars | herald of the fettered

[diametrically]

🌌💫 plotting comment | au info
closed & semi-open starters below
reach me at timescars or discord @ cardialloyed for plotting!

🌌 months one - two

[diametrically]

— annabeth

[diametrically]

[ Remembering why he never usually passes through the Witchwood jolts through him much like the way he's crashing through the jungle right now. To any creature, demigod, or onlooker, he looks the part of a mortal man that should absolutely not be in a place that could kill 1001 different ways. That's certainly why this particular creature is hunting him right now, bursting through the underbrush, razor sharp wings snapping at his heels.

Thankfully, he's a god. A self-sacrificing, idiot god with only his wits and no weapon to his name (because keeping a weapon is a fruitless endeavor when one turns to dust on a somewhat regular basis).

But there's a reason he's here. He knows there's one on the tip of his tongue - he just can't quite put it to words. It's a feeling akin to an echo but he's been conscious enough days on this planet to know that it's tied to a god. There are only a few reasons why another god would need his help: their own powers are chaotic and out of balance or they need him to help answer an echo. Andor finds it hard to believe that either of those are the case in here. But he's so rarely ignored a call for a pull like this before. And he isn't about to stop now.

...Mostly because stopping now would mean becoming demigod fodder and frankly he'd like to stick around for as long as he can after the lecture he's had from Serenity yet again about his proclivity to give too much of himself away to mortals.

That's when he sees a flash of armor ahead of him. A god. He doesn't know them, at least not on sight. And he's a little too preoccupied to really stop to think if that's true. The creature's shriek rips through the air ahead of his shout. ]

Hey! Move unless you want to be ripped to shreds!

[sophos]

[ annabeth had called out to cassian first, without thinking, mostly because she'd been thinking about him. dusted, again, like a fucking idiot, and it's been longer than usual for him to come back to himself. or maybe it hasn't - her sense of time continues to blur each passing year. ]

[ she has a back up plan, of course - clarisse, usually, or even percy if need be - and she always likes to give herself a few minutes of fighting them herself, even though she knows she can't kill her own. fighting them is still cathartic, in a way, and her friends are used to the semi-frequency in which hers appear as she continue to overindulge. ]

[ she's appropriately armored as she always when she comes to the witchwood; the gold is not subtle here, but annabeth has not been interested in subtle in a very long time. when she hears cassian's voice, she finds herself feeling two things: relief and anger. there's no concern for his warning or time to really grapple with his presence just yet, as her demigod spawn beelines towards her. ]

As if it could kill me. [ regardless of whether or not it can, annabeth refuses to consider the notion. just because she can't personally kill it doesn't mean she can't deal it damage. battle strategy is still a craft, and as the creature swipes his talons at her, she swings her sword (also gold) to block the blow, then twists it expertly to spin the whole demigod off balance. ]

[diametrically]

[ Cassian bursts into dust just as a wayward wing swipes towards him with laser precision before reappearing just behind the god clad in gold. The never ending light of the sunset that filters through the Witchwood glints off her armor in a way that makes him wonder if he's seen it somewhere before. But there's no time to be impressed with her swordsmanship or comment dryly at her flashiness. The demigod staggers backwards with a mighty screech that would have been enough to render its victims into a momentary stupor - but he's quick enough to block his ears off from the sound with sand and dirt. ]

It's yours then?

[ Or is it arrogance that sometimes comes hand in hand with the gods and their longevity? ]

Where are its weak spots?

[ He has no weapon but they have the environment to their advantage. His eyes glow, burning a bright brilliant blue for a moment as the wet sediment that the demigod is standing in begins to shift and move, sucking its talons down making it harder to move. ]

— sylvain

[diametrically]

[ Memories and how the body can remember even when the mind does not, never fails to both marvel and exasperate Andor. It's been centuries at this point. He knows now (now that he's had time to wander Abraxas, time to reclaim moments that had been scattered to the winds), that even if his mind has blanks, his body and the bonds forged will draw him back to those he knows. Andor simply has to trust that they will return before his time here comes to an end.

Most of those closest to him have been patient and forgiving when it comes to his penchant for forgetting and remembering. Sylvain had been one of them. Their initial meeting had come at a moment of need - not just for him, but for Sylvain too. Absorbing the ache that the god felt being separated from his soul bound had fed Andor and in return, it had helped dull the feeling for Sylvain - at least for a little while. He was shit at emotions and feelings. To some degree he thought that you needed a better memory for that. But he didn't need that to know that when someone was in need of company.

Andor hadn't overstayed his welcome. He didn't want either of them to be come dependent on the other, and it was better for him to wander and eventually return to the dust. But before that time he always wandered back. Not just because he appreciated a willing source of god-like power and emotion, not just because he appreciated Sylvain being one of many pairs of eyes looking after Serenity in his absence, but because he missed the man's company. All of his memories of him were fond after all.

One memory he would have liked returned to him before he arrived here however how fucking cold it was in Sylvain's domain. He was quickly remembering now.

As the door swings open a shiver runs through him from head to toe. To say he looks miserable is...an understatement. ]

Has it always been this cold in here?

[philancer]

Are you kidding?

[ There’s laughter in Sylvain’s voice as he steps back so he can usher the other man inside. There’s a roaring fire in the hearth, because Sylvain had felt him the moment he’d crossed into his Domain, and he knew Cassian was one of the many who were unused to the more frigid climates of his mountain.

All his favorite people were, unfortunately.

That doesn’t mean he can’t still tease them about it, however. ]

This is practically high summer. It’s barely chilled!

— dion

[diametrically]

[ By all accounts, this village shouldn't exist. A series of unfortunate events (famine, poor weather affecting their crops, an unfortunate run in with loan sharks that had bled most of these people dry) had meant practically everyone in this village was hanging on by a thread.

There is nothing remarkable about this village. No heroes that have hailed from it, no prophecy written in the stars speaking of greatness or calamity. It is just a village, with people going about their ordinary lives down on their luck. No one would miss it if it disappeared from the annals of history. These people and its name would, and should have gone gently into the night.

And yet by some miracle two gods deigned to answer their echoes.

Today the village square bustles, bursting at the seams with tired faces full of hope for what is the first time in a very long time. Long tables and mismatched chairs and benches have been dragged out of homes, decorated in an eclectic manner with whatever tablecloths and flowers the villagers could find. String lights and worn at the edges banners crisscross above the bustle of activity below. This isn't a festival, but it is a celebration of sorts. A celebration of starting anew. And in many ways the two gods responsible for this newfound hope are celebrating that too.

Sensing the presence of another, Cassian looks up from his food prep, his shirt rolled up to his elbows to avoid staining it. His baggy shirt hides the fact that in place of his torso is now only a swirl of dust, sand, and star dust. For that reason alone are the buttons fully done up to his neck. But if it bothers Cassian that parts of him are missing, he doesn't show it. In fact, faint streaks of stars dance across his normally black eyes at the sight of Dion - a clear sign of amusement, and perhaps, affection. ]

I'm chopping as fast as I can. If I had known you were going to run as tight a kitchen as Azem I would have just asked her to come join us.

[princeofruin]

[It is a rare, festive day in which Bahamut appears as anything close to the man he once was. He is mostly... himself, with horns and his three eyes, shoulders and hands coated with scales. His wings have been tucked away somewhere for the sake of space. But he has wrapped himself in modest dress to cover the stain of blood on his chest and the hole it dripped from, and his eyes are lit with something more than only the power that flashes inside him.

Dare there be a ghost of a smile as he kneads his naked hands in dough, a sound of amusement under his breath?

This is a good day. He cannot say what has made it good, but perhaps... perhaps that swell of hope in the people here is enough.]

I like to think I've picked up her best qualities from our time together. [The good times, he means. He still has faded memories of Azem attempting to rip his wings off, but distinctly recalls he had believed to deserve it.

He isn't thinking of such things now. Mostly he is watching Cassian concentrate on his work, and how the light plays handsomely along his jaw. The parts of him missing have never necessarily mattered to Bahamut -- it is the familiarity in his face, his dark eyes, and the attractive lilt of his voice.] And here I thought I was being quite patient, though I'm fairly certain Azem would have finished even with only one arm by now...

[There's affection in those words, too. Neither of them can hold a candle to her skills.]

— nebula

[diametrically]

[ It's not that Cassian is trying to purposefully avoid Nebula. It's more like he's trying to purposefully avoid the scolding that he knows will come from her if she discovers the state of him. He is a creature of habit, even in the face of all the scolding that he's been on the receiving end of.

He's never had to exist in a time of peace for so long, but there's always pockets of fettered mortals that need his help and he's never one to turn a blind eye. But in an effort to not give so much of himself away, he had been overzealous in his assistance this time and done the very thing he had promised Serenity he wouldn't do: give too much of himself away.

The mortals that needed his help have succeeded and gotten away safely which is cause for celebration alone. But with reward comes a cost, leaving him weakened and tired, hungry and missing parts of himself. Dust and sand swirl in the places where his left arm and torso should be (it feels like the back of his neck is missing too but if he can't see it then it's probably fine).

He needs sustenance. That will be the only thing that keeps him from crossing paths with someone who will scold him. But of course, the moment he arrives in Solvunn to find Azem he runs into Nebula instead. There's a brief pause as he shifts what should be his left hand into the pocket of his jacket. ]

Visiting Azem?

[furibund]

[ Nebula isn't attached to the greater idea of Solvunn. Eight hundred years meant you got a greater eye for how they behaved. She likes the community feel, hates the execution of what it means to be part of that community. Or in this case, what it doesn't. She's never had it in her to abandon Solvunn completely, finding it as close to home in the earlier days of her life as possible. Still, she tends to keep to the village she chose to help protect - to make a haven for all those outcasted and lost - then the greater parts of Solvunn.]

[ They had plenty of other gods to look after them: Why would they need her? ]

[ She still feels herself drawn to other places for other reasons. Namely those she's closest to - Rather they're in the Horizon or on their own, there's always some need to check in on them. Not that she always openly admitted to it, she doesn't struggle as much with expressing herself but she's still not one to outright say certain things. Unless you've pissed her off. ]

[ Which. Speaking of. Finding Cassian is an interesting surprise. She feels the familiar pinprick of irritation, because she hadn't been able to find him. Period. Which meant he was avoiding - not for the first time. And not that she cared - because she didn't really, truly - it's just annoying. Seeing him there, wandering around without thought earns a bite of frustration..... That dies rather rapidly at the comment. ]

Why would I be here for Azem?

[ She was totally here for Azem, which is perhaps why he earns a moment of her being flustered before she moves on - pointedly, sharply, taking the attention away from herself: ] Got something there?

[ She jerks her head towards his left side, brow arched in challenge. A definite difficult to miss challenge from the way she said got - as if the word was mocking, having already known the answer. ]

— river

[diametrically]

[ The oddness of Kassa's existence with Serenity on this plane at the same time still hasn't worn off. Time here has been remarkably steady. Peaceful. It's not normal for the Herald of the Fettered to relax, let alone be able to keep his hunger on a leash. Saying it was satiated is a lie because it still chomps at the bit to have something, anything, to sink its teeth into but he manages with the help of others. His family. His friends.

His mèi mei. Estrellita who acts more like a north star than his nickname for her might suggest.

It isn't that he wasn't grateful before for everything that she had done for him. It's more like this is the first time he's had any opportunity to show her, for it's hard to show gratitude and appreciation when he's nothing but star dust sent along the wind. A part of him waits, coiled and tense, waiting for the other shoe to drop or for the sky to fall down (because prophecies had always said that the appearance of them together spoke of calamity) - because as his scant followers liked to say: everything always returned to dust.

But days turned to weeks and weeks to months, and months to decades. And still they remained together. Kassa always been so quick to rush to the inevitable end, believing that his time away would allow her to experience life on this plane and the small joys it could bring. Never had he had to slow down and relish the time that he had here. It was hard, but he was learning. And if not for him, then he'd do it for those that had always stood by him to pull him back together again.

Arranging this outing feels like only a small drop in the bucket for what he feels he has to make up for. But it's a start. The suggestion to hike up instead of simply "appearing" on the mountain to watch the meteor shower had been his idea with the reasoning that they had been adventurers before this and they could easily be that again. There are plenty of mortals that have also made the trek up the mountain, but their destination is practically the peak where there will be no one there except for maybe another god or two. Surprisingly, there's no other soul in sight when they crest the plateau. Turning around, Kassa extends a hand to help Serenity up. ]

That wasn't so bad, was it?

[thoughts]

[ in his mind, this is the first time they've walked the world together in ages, the two of them destined to pass each other by on separate planes of existence for eternity. and in theory, he's not wrong.

but serenity has travelled every inch of abraxas a hundred times in a thousand years ( or near enough to it on either count ) with her brother at her side. she has climbed every mountain, hiked through every forest, scoured every desert, and kassa was with her every step of the way. he just doesn't remember it. he couldn't speak, couldn't see, couldn't breathe. couldn't console her through the storm or pull her out of the fire. alive and not at the same time, kept safe in a jar as she collected every hidden piece of him.

over and over and over again. centuries of one-sided conversations, of adventures that never happened, of a life that was not lived together.

she should be happy now that they are together, and she is - but more than that, she's afraid. afraid of what this period of calm means for them, when it will end, if he'll slip through her fingertips again. but he's trying so hard to make up for lost time and she can't say no to him. not when he's finally right before her, not a jar of sand or a ghost in her fractured memories but right next to her as he offers her his hand.

of course she takes it. and in spite of the fear, in spite of everything that tells her to find the calamity before it finds them, her heart blooms with happiness as she joins him at the peak of the mountain and she thinks of nothing else.

once a fool, always a fool. all she has ever wanted is to be with her brother. ]

You only beat me to the top because your legs are longer.

[ and she is still his snotty little sister. serenity smiles faintly with the tease as she places her hand in his, the only person whose touch she has never shied away from, and then she drags him over to the best viewpoint at the edge of the mountain. ]

The first one will be visible in three minutes and forty-one seconds. We're just in time.

🌌 month three

[diametrically]

— viktor

[diametrically]

[ Over the last eight hundred years, Cassian has come to terms with the fact that his hunger may never well be satiated. Thankfully a steady diet of magicked human food, willing Gods, and the occasional human who needed to be kept in line keeps most of it at bay. And as of late, he realizes, working with his hands also proves as a good distraction.

As he manifests inside Viktor's workshop he dusts himself off despite knowing it's somewhat in vain. This place is an organized mess of parts and designs, delicate yet sturdy machinery that he tries his best not to get his dust in between the gears of (although it's inevitable that Viktor has to do some clean up after his visits). It doesn't take him long to find the god amongst his creations. There's not much preamble; he's remembered enough of their odd friendship together over the years by now and they're both the sort to handwave pleasantries when there's a certain level of comfort shared. ]

You had something to show me?

[techmaturgy]

I do, yes.

[He refrains from comment on the dust on the floor. The Machinist is known for his meticulous attention to detail, and it's almost certain he does not appreciate even the slightest bit of dirt near the sensitive actuators and operations of his workshop. When he refrains from commenting on it, it's almost certainly because he considers Cassian his friend, and enjoys the company.

That, and, he has something special for him today. One of the automatons will sweep up Cassian's disparate parts later. For now, Viktor ushers him to one of his many worktables.]

What do you know of my automatons, Cassian?

🌌 pre-event, the missing years

[diametrically]

— himeka

[diametrically]

[ Andor doesn't recall this gaping set of teeth being here. Or if he does, the memory is now lost to the sensation that has consumed him, mind, body and soul like so many things these days. All he knows, all he can think of is the way that the Maw looks the way he feels: Hungry. Starving. Ravenous.

Maybe that's why he's been drawn here, he thinks faintly as he tosses the body, breathing but empty, to the ground where the sand beneath it begins to move, sucking it towards the gnashing teeth below. Perhaps this serves as some reminder from the Old Gods that this is what he could become if he doesn't find a way to satiate the hunger before it consumed him whole from the inside out. Or maybe, this creature is just meant to serve as company as he partakes in his meal. While he had his fill of a mortal's essence, this creature partook in their flesh. It's a fitting end, he thinks, for these people that sought to crush the weak underfoot, that tried to oppress and chain.

Someone else whimpers behind him. Slowly void eyes turn to look at them. He cocks his head at the pathetic display before him as if he had forgotten that his meal today was two fold. As sand stirs spiraling around his victim and down their throat to choke their cries he slowly makes his way towards them. Sometimes it's easier to eat in silence. Soon enough their very essence and their emotions begin to coat his tongue but then he senses someone. A god.

With his victim still clutched in his sand as it begins to spill over their eyes to look at the newcomer, he turns to look at the newcomer. Or perhaps the stranger is a better way to address the being before him. But if none are his mèi mei then that's all they are. Nameless. Unimportant. ]

...Yes?

[aquaveiled]

[ Azem kind of likes the Maw.

It's a horrifying, hidden thing that has been the end to so many mortals and crates a divide between the two largest nations that might otherwise be brought together in some semblance of harmony and understanding (hah), but she does. It's simple, it only wishes to eat and rest, assuming what it does when it isn't seen is rest. And if there is something that Azem has always been devoted to, it's filling empty bellies. Now more than ever.

The food she prefers to offer is a little different than the fare that mortals tend to. Though she's aware that the weight of ones worth is tested in these lands, she does wish that they would find other ways to punish those they believed deserved it...

As such, she isn't surprised to see that there are mortals about being delivered to their end.

What she is surprised to see is another god partaking in their own...methods of dealing with them.

Her skirts and cloak settle as she stills and stares for a moment, tilting her head far to the side. It's not a god she's particularly familiar with, though she feels she's seen him in passing before. Mayhaps it's only is essence--aether? That word still rings familiar--that feels right. The rest not at all.

Golden eyes flicker from his own blackened ones to the mortal in his grasp. The scent of death is even stronger than it usually is around the Maw. She holds a basket of her own offerings against her stomach. Though its contents are hidden by an embroidered cloth, the smells that come from it are tantalizing and fresh. Azem nods her head to the mortal before she addresses her peer. ]

What have they done?

— yennefer

[diametrically]

[ The hunger is at bay - for now. Someone in the Cult of Serenity had left him a whole bushel of apples - and fresh ones at that, he was to pleased to discover. Sometimes his return to this plane was heralded with moldy or already overripe fruit that felt like mush between his teeth and slid disgustingly down his throat.

Not that freshness matters. Knowing that he isn't devouring something absolutely foul just makes him feel better. No matter what he eats, it's devoid of taste, smell and texture. Where there should be the crunch and tartness of an apple, there's...nothing. This act of eating brings him no joy. This is just something mindless to trick his body into feeling full for a short time, to keep others safe around him until an echo that is worth answering reaches him. Until he can rest.

He can hear River titter in his ear. It's a sad existence, and he knows that. But is it not for the best after everything he's done? This is better than accidentally taking too much again from someone that just happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

That day he wanders the Valen Republic with his coat pocket full of apples, purposefully gliding unseen through the crowd when he halts in his tracks. The smell after the rain clings to the air around him like a faint memory even though it's been days since this place last saw rainfall. Without thinking his body turns in the direction of the smell, realizing that there's more dimension to it. There's the smell of the earth and dirt that invokes images of a slender pair of hands, digging, pulling his body from the earth.

Dropping his half-bitten apple he rounds a corner and other notes join the myriad of scents. Lilac. Gooseberries. A taste so rich like wine that makes it feel like it could quench his parched throat. He's tasted this before. He knows it. But the exact memory remains elusive, blurred and mischievous at the edge of his memories. The smells beckon him, draw him closer and closer like a lifeline. Up ahead a figure leisurely makes their way through the crowd and like a man dying of thirst he reaches out to grasp their shoulder, snapping into existence in the crowd.

As the figure turns, something akin to panic mixes with the ever empty gnaw of his stomach. He shouldn't be touching anybody. Nobody. But despite his best attempts to pull back, to rip his hand away and disappear back into the Badlands, he finds himself affixed. Black eyes like a starless night sky stare at this figure, this soul that he's certain he knows as well as his own.

Finally he croaks words. They're dusty and misused and tumble inelegantly from his cracked lips. ]

Do I know you?

[vixening]

[ she goes by many names these days - whispers on the wind that vary as widely as her descriptions, as the images that the people of velan describe her to be. the herald of rebirth, changebringer, soreceress reborn - but she has a preference for stráedelaith, the lady of the journey. because it is true, more now than ever before, that she very rarely remains anywhere for long. however; it has become clear to her her own preferences, how often she finds herself wandering the streets of nott or passing through the newly built inns of the outer villages. she can't quite help the feeling of pride in seeing this all build, in watching it prosper.

the face she wears today is modest, though with a few key similarities - her long, dark locks, a sharp jaw, a clean face. her eyes are a muddy brown, considering one of the clearest, most direct ways followers recognize her is by the violet of her irises, and she otherwise looks as normal as she can. she wanders the marketplace with an indeterminable amount of wealth, interest in the various trinkets and technologies, but making very little of an impression as she wanders. she is not here for a direct purpose, exactly - but rather to pass the time, to move through the cities and towns, waiting for the familiar tug. the pull of where it is she needs to be and what she needs to bring warning or blessings of.

and perhaps that is the reason she is here on this day - what has brings her to this market, this town, why the face she wears is on the more familiar side, why she doesn't feel the need to be anywhere else. perhaps she should know that it is the reason, considering she so rarely is anywhere she is not supposed to be. the hand on her shoulder is a shock - very few mortals (locals, humans, whatever it is they are calling them these days) ever dare to touch her, whether or not they understand why. fewer, still, who do it with such desperation. such panic. for a very brief, half-moment yennefer considers reaching out with her own hand - clawed, when she needs it to be, black and sharp and violent to wrap around whoever's throat that dares to get this close - but the thought is gone as soon as it rises.

black eyes, starless skies, and an open, nearly terrified face stares back at her. her own eyes flash an alarmingly clear, bright sort of violet at her almost-retaliation, but then fade back to color.

ah she thinks, with a small smile. his voice is as harsh, scratched, and dusted as ever on these days, and yennefer lets the rush of purpose, of understanding, and of something much more than either settle deep within her gut. ]

That depends. [ and her voice is her own, it is a choice on her part. perhaps it is cruel, a game that she plays when he's unable to realize he's become part of it, but yennefer very rarely claims to be wholly kind.

she turns to face him, head tilted ever so slightly, unaware if they've drawn any eyes at all. ] Do you know who you are?

— thancred

[diametrically]

[ Even though he dons the skin of a mortal man, Andor can feel the itch of something beneath it - the god, the hunger - clawing it's way out of him, threatening to burn him from the inside out. It's plagued him ever since that fateful day he had tried to help Metia destroy the Singularity. Ever since Yasi'halaun had nearly killed him. Ever since he'd had his first taste of emotion fueled by Mythos' god-like despair of a brother no longer here.

Even before that moment the hunger had haunted him, so a taste of a powerful emotion should have left him satisfied. Instead it left him wanting more.

It starts innocently and valiantly enough. Andor limited himself to those that were deserving of it - those that tried to oppress and crush and chain. But that hadn't been enough. Times of peace did not bode well for a herald that was designed to break systems and carry the weak on his back. So naturally, sadly, his carnal desires had left a trail of innocent mortals in his wake.

A village once bustling now stands quiet. Desolate. Dust, sand and dirt lays thick on every surface and every body as a lone figure simmering with the heat of a supernova callously tosses another body to his feet, burnt and hollow. How much he's had he can't say for certain. His hunger tells him not enough. And there's still more. The dust that lies in the corners of this place whisper, telling him there's still others to be had. The villagers quake at the feet of El Povo, cry to other gods to save them from this relentless being.

But those gods don't concern him right now. All he knows is that he's ravenous and he will not leave until he's had his fill. ]

[funbreaker]

[ The echo comes as a wracked sob, scraping through Aegis' thoughts like nails on a chalkboard. This is the sort of echo that he can never turn away from: a desperate plea for protection from some terrible, unknowable force. While he doesn't know the details of what this danger is or where it came from, not when the one praying to him can barely string the urgent words together, it doesn't matter. He knows down to his marrow that this is someone who needs him, and for good reason.

So he flies to the source of the echo in an instant, with little more than a purposeful flap of his wings, and then himself in a place that's been hollowed out and turned to dust.

Most of it, anyway. There are a few homes still standing, if barely, and he can only assume that the person who called to him is somewhere inside one of those structures.

Don't worry. I'll keep you safe.

They may not be able to hear the words, but with any luck they can feel his presence and his will.

It's not hard to find who's responsible, though Aegis can barely make out the god's other form, lit up as it is like a star that's burning itself out. He can even feel the oppressive heat, though it's not enough to stop him from striding forward, his gunblade drawn and his tone clear and clarion. ]

I don't know what drove you to this, but that's enough.

[ And then, among the blinding light, he can almost make out a silhouette. He frowns as he realizes who this is: the Herald of the Fettered.

Cassian.

The shock of that alone stays his hand, if only for a moment. ]

[unresponsives]

( she'd pushed him away earlier, a roll of her eyes and verbal shove, all but ignoring her dusty man as he'd floated back into her life. it was a charade that happened every time he returned, heather never showing her relief in public, never letting anyone know that she cared. she couldn't.

but he knew what it meant, to find her alone, to go somewhere theirs and when her business had concluded she'd kept herself off the grid, made herself untraceable and had gone to find him, that small, subtle smile that she now only had for him tugging at her as she saw him )

It feels longer every time.

[diametrically]

[ Andor (as she refers to him when she's cross with him), knows that the gruff and the cold shoulder of the Red Queen is not just an act but because some part of it is well deserved. He always gives and gives until there is nothing more of him to give to those that are not those closest to him, but those most in need. Mortals.

It's a point of contention amongst several of those closest to him. One of them being his Red Queen. Heather.

He's under no illusion that everyone will forgive him in the time that it takes him to remember. There's always the chance that when he arrives at a peaceful lake in a secluded area of the Godlands that she will turn him away for good or not be there at all. But she's here this time.

Relief flicks on his face at her arrival and he reaches for her. Regret tinges his voice. ]

I'm sorry. You know I don't have control over that.