EVENT #7: THE SIGHT

[abraxasmods]

Event #7 - The Sight

go to the OOC event info and plotting post

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The night before APRIL 18, your dreams are disrupted by a vivid image of the same eclipse that occurred last month. The black sun seems to be an endless void in the sky, growing ever darker - until it suddenly opens into an eye that stares straight at you.

When you wake up, much of your night seems a blur except for the vivid dream of that eye. Whether you find it unsettling or try to ignore it, the image is something you cannot get out of your mind. If you ask, you will discover that none of the locals of your faction saw another eclipse. Speak with your fellow Summoned, however, and you may learn that while there was no eclipse that formed over the world, you were not the only one who had this dream.

Of course, dreams don't need to mean anything. You can't feel or see any immediate effects, and nearly everyone around you is going about their day as usual. Maybe you should do the same.

The Awakening

It might happen that very morning or a day or two later. You could be discussing the dream with a fellow Summoned or perhaps you simply brush shoulders with them as you walk by. Whatever it is, as soon as you make brief physical contact, one of you is struck with a sharp pain in your temple that grows into a terrible headache. It's disorienting and painful as the world around you shifts to someplace you may or may not recognize. Like an old film reel, you watch the events of the past play out before you: the past of the other Summmoned. It might be something they would rather hide, a moment of failure or despair, or something they are immensely proud of and brings them great joy - or even a jumble of several images over the course of a person's life. But you see it as if it were real and right in front of you all the same. When you come to, you'll likely find yourself on the ground or bent over, possibly with one or more people around you to see if you're okay. It'll take you a bit to gather your bearings, and the subsequent pounding in your head could last from minutes to hours.

Or, maybe you aren't the one who receives the vision. Instead, as you watch, another Summoned might grasp their head and crumble in front of you. They may go silent or groan in pain. They'll be impossible to shake out of their stupor until it's over. If you ask what happened, they may be inclined to tell you the truth - that you, you were what happened to them.

Or, if your Arcana signs happen to line up in a specific way, you'll see each other in the shared memory itself. You may also find that for certain Summoned, you can help soothe the effects, calm their emotions, or help draw them out of the memory before it consumes them for too long. It's not entirely clear what determines which effect, but one thing is for certain - within each memory, every Summoned as they appear in the past seems to wear the mark of their Arcana somewhere on their person.

For some, they might experience this only once. For others, they might experience it multiple times: with the same person, with several other Summoned, or with a different memory each time. Over the next 7 days, you'll find the Summoned around you are all receiving a glimpse into each other's past, as if the Singularity has awoken an eye within each of you.

Flee for the safety of the Horizon if you want, but you'll find that in there, it's much the same. In fact, inside the Horizon, the other Summoned don't even need to be anywhere near you - just existing in the Horizon space itself together will be enough to possibly set off a headache-inducing vision.

The Factions

What has occurred between the Summoned will not go unnoticed within the factions. While it's difficult to say how faction officials have picked up what's happening, it'll be obvious they do know.

In THORNE, characters will be asked to remain in the castle walls until further notice. Characters will not be allowed to leave the castle grounds, not even to go into the surrounding city, and anyone who is already outside will be requested to not leave again as soon as they return. If asked, they will be told it's for their own safety, given the Singularity is behaving unpredictably and the Summoned have a unique connection to it. Soothing potions and healers are on hand to offer assistance, if anyone is particularly suffering from ill effects.

In the FREE CITIES, characters will find the army by the outposts show more activity than usual. A higher number of guards will patrol the streets throughout the event, particularly in areas frequented by the Summoned. Anyone who publicly and visibly experiences the effects of the memory share (pain, doubling over, etc.) will be offered assistance by the guards. They are generally there to help, but they are also there to maintain order and ensure anyone behaving erratically due to this incident is properly contained. This might include confinement for a day or two if anyone is especially posing a risk, but no one will be punished except in the most extreme cases, as the locals are aware this is not within the control of the Summoned.

In SOLVUNN, the locals will be watching what's happening with a mixture of trepidation and curiosity. Host families and neighbors will be on hand to help with charms meant to offer protection, as well as general care and assistance (soup, blankets, and so on) if your character seems to be especially under the weather or afflicted by the event. Towards the end of the event, more elders and mages will be out and about to check up on the Summoned to make sure they're doing okay. If asked, the mages will say they aren't sure what's going on, but that they are currently divining with the gods and hope to have a definitive answer soon in the upcoming days.

None of the factions appear to be doing much more than keep a watchful eye on the situation - but as the week comes to a close, officials will start making a decision as to what they want to do and how to handle the Summoned who have demonstrated this unforeseen connection to the Singularity.

Comments

[carmesi]

[there is a moment of passing concern as she catches a glimpse of viktor, looking worse for wear. it's really hard to assess these things when it comes to people she cannot actually check up on outside of the horizon. she wonders—and wonders—if she should not have just moved to the free cities, if only to be closer to those she's grown so fond of.

this thought, however, disappears from her mind as he starts talking, looks all the better, and wanda can't help fumbling with her hands when he smiles.

(people don't usually smile when they see her—it's... been a while since, anyway.)

wanda offers a small smile in return.]

I find that the Singularity proves to be a little more elusive in giving us answers, especially when we're hoping for them. [said smile grows a little more relaxed when he looks open to conversation, hands held together over her lap in her usual nervous turning of the rings she's decorated her fingers with.] I — saw one of your memories.

[she quickly amends:]

You were with Jayce. Everything was... blue, and it was — beautiful. That was your work, wasn't it?

[carmesi]

[the sharing of their memories had been happening for a while now, and wanda could only hope that by now perhaps some of them had managed to figure out the trick in stopping them or altogether leaving them as they played. it's not like she's even actively thinking about this moment, plucked from her mind, a memory treasured because of pietro being in it. what point was there in sharing it, when she always had her brother at her side?

any memory involving him is painful, even when it's the ones where the skies are clear and there is no threat of more bombings; soldiers seemed to prefer raising their weapons when it was overcast or the middle of the night.

with a bit of a defeated sigh, wanda takes a few steps forward, allowing the memory to pull towards them. she knows what comes next, but to see it so vividly—it's something else. wanda and pietro have stopped by an untouched hillside, one which serves as a small canal, and they're looking among the green of the grass for yellows and blues and purples.

Look, they bloomed!

it is spring time—a few months since they've been orphaned. for a moment, they forget about the war and their losses, picking carefully at the flowers and discussing between them, giggles coming anew to wanda at her brother's smiling behest.]

We could never find flowers for our parents. The bombs destroyed the flower shop in the city, and every other garden was destroyed or trampled by soldiers. Pietro had found this small hill by the canal, untouched — and we would check every day in the Spring for the flowers to bloom.

[she sits on her haunches and reaches to touch her brother's cheek, but her hand goes through the memory of him. perhaps the frustrating part is not that she is sharing this with a relative stranger, but the fact that she can't do anything to be in it.]

He was twelve minutes older than me, but he was always so... silly, despite everything. I never realized how much he was looking after me.

[putting yellow flowers on her ear, if only to keep her smiling for a second longer.

Do you think these many are enough?

Mom and dad will love the blue ones.

Do you think so?

I know so, Wanda!

her words were always questions, wondering and wishing, whereas pietro portrayed such optimistic confidence to deter darkness from taking over. he was the part of her that reminded her to have fun, to smile, to not take things so seriously.

wanda stands, watches as the memory dissolves around her, the giggling and laughter of two orphaned twin siblings resonating within this confine as the memory shifts into something else, something unknown to her. she turns to geralt.]

It's a good memory.

[sad only because of her brother not being among the living anymore.]

[carmesi]

[all this cheer despite the dark and mysterious look of this memory. wanda turns to the man who does speak to her, looking a little puzzled; is he in this memory? it doesn't seem like the same person.]

I wasn't looking to walk into a memory.

[and yet, here they are. curiosity, however—]

Who is that?

[nadine_he_loves]

Of all the things that could have been called forth to share...this is alright. Bittersweet, in a way, but there's nothing shameful or traumatic here.

When Jaskier takes her hand, she squeezes his gently. Her eyes stay fixed to the memory of herself - so different, even though this was only a year or so ago. And Joe...oh God, Joe. She can recall how proud she was, when he went from hobbling awkwardly to running like any other kid. It had been a slow process, but he'd thrived. Eventually.

As much as anyone who'd gone through what he did at so young an age could.

"Adopted," she says, quietly. "But...after the world ended, I was his mom. I found him, he...he was in really bad shape. He was just a few towns over from mine, but I think we were the only two people in New Hampshire who survived. He's...he's the reason I knew how to stitch up cuts and set bones."

She'd learned by candlelight, on the floor of that empty house, as Joe lay in a fever beside her. She can't take her eyes away as the memory of herself chases Joe playfully down an empty street, laughing, the only indication something is wrong in the world are the cars littering the road in the distance.

the worst feeling :c

[monomachy]

[A little amusement sparks in Diana's eyes, but her expression remains warm.]

I'm new, too. [Reassurance that Shepard isn't the only one sort of... working through being in this place. It's a lot to get used to.

The question delights her, and she briefly looks behind her at the miniature city, wistful.]

More beautiful than you can imagine. There are many mountains, not just one, and white-sand beaches all around. The city is thousands of years old, but you would never know from looking at it. But the best part of Themyscira are the Amazons, my sisters, who give life to the island.

[She turns back to Shepard, and though her heart aches for her own home, she still asks:] Where are you from?

[monomachy]

[Her brows pull lower, trying to make sense of what he's saying. Despite his clear distress, she doesn't think he's just babbling. Whatever he saw or experienced was real, though she can't figure out why she hadn't felt anything at all.

Humans in training. Recognition sparks in her mind.]

Was it women training? With armor and weapons?

[princessvegas]

I don't either, but it's better than nothin'.

[ A mug floats from the bedside table to where Julie sits, and she takes it in both hands to sip from it. There's a moment of quiet, her eyes averted from Nadine's face, and it's obvious that she did have to experience something that hurt her to have to go through again. On her own, in her room, she can block it out by pouring all of her focus into other things. There's a stack of random magazines and newspapers next to the chair Jesper made her, a pad of paper with a list half-written on it. It doesn't matter what's taking up the space in her mind as long as it's something benign. ]

Uh, I mean, I guess I'm okay. I didn't... I didn't see anythin' too bad in anyone else's head, and that's good. I already knew what was in my own brain, so.

[ She trails off, takes another drink. It feels selfish to be upset over something that's not new, when so many people are witnessing trauma that had nothing to do with them. Plenty of people's parents die, she can't say it was special or fresh. Being sad now won't accomplish anything.

Nadine pretty much immediately crosses the threshold, and Julie squawks indignantly, her mouth hanging open. She put effort into protecting them and here Nadine is, walking through doors! But she does have drugs, and that sounds absolutely perfect, so Julie reaches up with an open hand. ]

lmk if this is ok!

[monomachy]

[Diana hears someone approaching, not so far away from where she sits, but before she can turn to see them, she's caught up in her own memory. London, hideous and fascinating, looming around her with its great, tall buildings and smoggy sky. She knows where this is going, remembers these moments so clearly, but when she sees Steve Trevor, the breath is still knocked from her lungs.

The scabbed wound on her heart tears open, and she presses a hand to her chest as if that will stem the pain of seeing him energized and exasperated and alive. It doesn't, but the distraction of a man she's never before seen does the trick for the moment. The pain that was no doubt on her face fades to confusion as she looks to him, his height, hair, and clothing making him stand out among the everyday people of this memory.

She answers without thinking, surprise at the man's appearance overtaking her distress.]

He was very focused on his mission, even if it was the wrong one.

[cryptsleeper]

[Alucard doesn't know what to do. He hasn't seen this happen from the outside yet - every other encounter has been similtaneous. All he knows is that his own heart thunders in his chest, pertified of what might be seen. There's too many possibilities, and fuck, Jaskier only knows about one of his nightmares.

There's no hiding the panic that overtakes the dhampir when it becomes apparent that Jaskier might be seeing the last moments of Dracula's life. The second worst thing that Alucard's ever done. It is there when the memory firmly dislodges the bard, and it grows worse at the lack of humor there.

His eyes fall away.]

--We're wrong then.

[There's nothing but regret and mourning in those three words. He won't ask what Jaskier saw. Tears convey enough that it is a terrible thing, and that is a short list for Alucard.]

[princessvegas]

What'd they want her for? 'Cause she's a princess? [ It's almost an absent thought as she watches, tries to keep up as the memory shifts in ways she isn't accustomed to.

A corpse hits the ground, and Julie's only real response is to take another step back, her bare feet not picking up the blood that's everywhere. This kind of violence is not new to her, does not trigger any of the instincts it probably should; she has cheered from the sidelines as people dismembered each other with chainsaws, with axes, desperately fought for things that didn't matter nearly as much as this. The only difference is that before, she had the advantage of being slightly further away from the mess. So her grip on him remains steadfast, her eyes following the other Geralt as best she's able to in this lighting.

When she does actually turn to face him, the Geralt she came with, she only looks wary in response to the mage. Her voice is slow. ] Didn't you say mages can't use fire in your world?

[monomachy]

[She's relieved that he doesn't seem too estranged by her unprompted approach. She's genuinely curious about him, and the girl he was training. When he correctly pins it as something she saw in the Horizon, Diana nods in affirmation, both at his suggestion about the Horizon and her name. A smile blooms across her lips, her eyes lighting up in delight.]

Diana of Themyscira. [She would offer her arm to clasp, but it's become obvious that physical touch is one of the triggers for sharing memories, so she settles for thumping her right fist on the opposite shoulder in greeting.]

I saw a girl training with the sword, and you there beside her. And that same girl running a wicked-looking obstacle course. [It was very Amazonian, to be honest. Antiope had taken great pleasure in coming up with wild courses for her soldiers to run.] She almost finished. [She's impressed, that much is clear. Most of the mortal women she's met aren't much into physical fitness, and wouldn't have been able to accomplish so much.]

[nadine_he_loves]

I don't think either of us need to see anything new to leave a mark. It's not like normal remembering.

[In the confines of one's own mind is one thing. Memories can be pushed away, and were subject to so much in the waking mind. Time, distance...things fade a bit or alter subtly.

This is different, as far as Nadine knows. She'd been there, watching herself, no hazy fuzz of time or shifting of memory to soften it. The shock of seeing what had really happened, as opposed to how she remembered it - not nearly as frightening, not nearly as hostile - had been more than enough to upset her.

When Julie holds out her hand, she's glad. Not that she advocates using substances to deal with stress or upset, but...Julie's already been going through such a difficult time. Now this is happening... The woman needs a good night's sleep.]

Maybe we can just sleep through the whole thing.

[It's only partially a joke as Nadine hands over the little bottle...not quite carefully enough, and her fingertips make contact with Julie's hand.]

[londonbound]

Rhy stares at him, uncertain. Kell can't possibly mean that. If he does, it's because he's afraid of all the unknowns in this world. It's because he has come to the same conclusion Rhy has, knowing that he no longer has an anchor in his own world. The understanding settling into the pit of his stomach like a boulder dragging him into the sea: that he cannot go home.

"Yes, well-- I'm glad," Rhy lies brusquely, suddenly moving to get up off the bed and away from Kell. Somehow, the headache gets worse, though, and he stumbles slightly on his way to the drinks table by the window. Rhy's jaw clenches, and he squints against the throbbing in his temples, reaching for the brandy because it's the only way he knows to make himself feel better.

"You can live your life without constantly being worried about breaking me. It was getting on my nerves just as it was getting on yours, even if you'd pretend otherwise now that you don't feel it anymore. You know this is better. The Singularity's given us an exit to an inescapable situation."

[cointosser]

And she answers. He wasn't entirely sure if she would, if this was real. It's only fair he questions what is real when he's being dragged into people's memories. His hand around hers grows tight, more for his benefit than hers.

As these things continue, some part of him is afraid of getting lost. He's seen how fantasies or memories can be so enticing that one wishes to live in them. When things become... too much.

"He looks happy with you."

A mother. It suits her so well. Just as important as his happiness is hers, and it's clear she was. For that time. And though Jaskier wants to know more, the whole story, he hesitates on the questions that could turn something gentle into horrible remembrance. Is this what you left behind? Is he all right?

"I'm always afraid we forget the good when so much horror happens. But this... this is beautiful, Nadine."

CW: noncon references

[nadine_he_loves]

Nadine does stop, letting her hand drop.

"I just know...I know what's in my own head, and I know a lot of it's...really messed up." How messed up...without having shared in experiencing the memory, she has no idea. Anywhere from 'mildly upsetting' to 'saw her used as a sex slave'.

Oh god. What the hell had Ronan been subjected to?

"I do know that I'm suddenly thinking about the guy I was...given to, for a time." That's the most polite way she can phrase it, but even putting it like that only hammers home exactly what had happened.

Why couldn't it have been one of the nice memories of Joe?

"Um, and...I don't like talking about him, but if I can put anything in context..."

Not, she thinks, that the context makes any of it better. But it at least might make whatever Ronan had seen make some sort of sense. Whatever it was, it had been bad. She can tell.

[cointosser]

[What a disappointing end to his scientific method.

Jaskier nods.] Unfortunately. [Wrong. Yeah. He could say so. He gives himself a moment, breathing in and out, catching back the breaths he must not have taken while he was in it. Funny. Does he even need to breathe here?

His thoughts are wandering, desperate to get away from what he saw. But. He feels it's only fair Alucard knows.]

I'm sorry. [He begins, but he's not sure for what. For anything. For coming here to invade his friend's memories, or for the fact he had to do that at all. Kill his father. It's enough to put a damper in anyone's life.

After a moment, he draws a handkerchief from his pocket, drying his eyes.] Your childhood room had a lovely ceiling. It must have been wonderful to look up at the stars every night.

[He knows that doesn't say enough. Yet he cannot bring himself to be so forthcoming about it. Even when he closes his eyes here, he can see that man becoming nothing but bones. Reduced to ash.]

[nadine_he_loves]

Uh...I've been better, but I'm okay.

[It's not great, knowing other people have seen her memories, but...so far, at least, the truly horrific things are still hers alone. Nadine can live with that. She lives with much worse already.

She has no intention of lingering herself, but it's within a moment of Geralt's sudden falter. Like a sudden migraine splitting down her skull, she lets out a pained little sound as she leans back against the wall, bracing herself. This isn't like the other times, this isn't her own memory she's taken to. And she's alone, like it had been with Julie, the scene materializing before her not one that's familiar...

In the memory unfolding before Geralt, one of the girls on the floor is speaking.

"...said it's the devil's work, we shouldn't be playing with it," she says, and another girl laughs dismissively. All three turn their attention to the fourth girl, sitting on a bed. Her nightgown, white and old fashioned, is a stark contrast to the t-shirts and sweatpants of the rest. Her long blond hair is pulled back in a tail and she's facing away from the circle on the floor.

"Come on, the more power from us the better it works. Get over here, new girl."

And the blond girl does, shifting and slipping off the bed to join the others. She kneels and they all four place their hands on the planchette in the center of the board.

"Spirits..." The girl who'd laughed earlier intones. "The door is open!"]

[blackeyedprince]

Kell couldn't give a rat's ass about uncertainty. Or this world. Or his own. Alright, that's a lie. After his seething fury has subsided, he has to admit he cares about his home. Guilt and hurt might have won in him for a short while, but he wouldn't have fought the Danes with such determination if he didn't care about his city, his world, his home. Their home. It wasn't only about his brother, it was about everything.

He might have had a moment of weakness when he thought, feared, that all is lost. That maybe they truly are dead to their world, but the longer he settled here, the more it became clear to him that nothing is really over until they're both dead. And they're not.

So it hits him twice as hard when Rhy suddenly moves away from him, gets off the bed and goes straight for the booze. Not only because the words hurt, but because he did not see it coming.

"Better?!!" Kell doesn't even try to keep his voice low. "How can you call this better?! We don't know what this thing is! We don't know what it does! What it might want from you!" He's up on his feet by the end of the second sentence. "You might have been fed up with me, but this is no solution at all! If you think I'll be fine with some unknown entity dangling you on a string for whatever end it might wish to have, just so I don't have to worry about you anymore, then you are very wrong, brother! I think we can both tolerate a little discomfort."

Kell knows he's being unfair and that he's exaggerating, but he's also very, very angry.

[princessvegas]

[ This is also Julie, a woman who has never healthily dealt with any trauma in her entire life, was taught that feeling emotional pain is a weakness and a burden. Nadine can just go ask Sam about the many frustrating conversations he's had about it with her. As far as Julie's concerned, what right does she have to be upset about something she already lived through? How can it rightfully feel shocking or hurtful when she already knows what happened, what will become? Repetition should be numbing, not wounding.

Julie opens her mouth to respond, but before she can, the piercing pain is back, and she's glad that she's already on the floor. She forces her eyelids to raise, so she can try and grab Nadine, but Nadine is already gone.

Or at least the Nadine she knows is. It's not Julie's bedroom anymore, it's a dark room lit with candles, the fireplace. Nadine sits on the sofa, no horns, no white hair, and a gawky, stringy guy -- no, a boy, he's younger even than Julie is -- sets down wine glasses. "I didn't come here to drink, Harold," Nadine says, and Julie immediately knows what this is, doesn't want to see. She tries to leave the room, finds only an entranceway with a direct eye line back to the sofa, nowhere else to go.

She doesn't look, refuses to look, tries to block out the sound. It's mostly Nadine talking, and Julie had known that Flagg told her to seduce this kid, but he sounds so scared of her. A grunt, a shuddering breath, and Julie presses her face to the wall. "I'm sorry," he says in his reedy little voice, and Nadine answers, "Don't be."

There's a swirl of background and Nadine and Harold are fighting, his face twisted and mean, cruel. The basest hatred and disgust, barely contained within his skin. The kind that can only be found in men who hate women.

Just as Julie glances around, the scene shifts, blurs, once more, and now they're outside, it's day and there's snow. There's still smoke from the tires where Nadine stopped short, and Julie stands on the road next to the motorcycle, watching. The other bike, Harold. It happens so fast, his skid, the way he goes flying over the edge of the barrier. There's a sickening crunch, loud enough that Julie can hear it from where she is, and she begins running toward the edge, even as Nadine only walks.

Julie looks down at Harold, impaled and spitting up blood. She doesn't need to see any more, begins walking back toward the motorcycle. Maybe if she walks far enough, she can walk out of the memory. ]

[carmesi]

[thancred wanders into her horizon and wanda takes note of it, the crows in the edge of the dark forest cawing at the foreign presence, offering only a warning to a new individual walking in. she thinks it's foolish that thancred would, considering the state of upheaval their minds are undergoing, revisiting memories alongside others or on their own.

the door swings open and there she stands, against the door frame, giving him a confused look.

for as much as she would appreciate a visit from him any day, this feels particularly irresponsible.]

Thancred. [she voices the same kind of concern in her voice as her puzzled look offers.] Is everything alright?

[nadine_he_loves]

"I think he was."

There had been happy times, amid all the rest. The scenes shift, flashes of moments of the two of them together. Here, in a tent together, Nadine reading to Joe. The pair of them at the sandy edge of a lake, in winter coats and boots but building a sandcastle anyway. A cozy looking bedroom, more lived in than that first house of memory, Nadine in a bathrobe over her nightgown, tucking Joe in and brushing his hair back out of his face...

It's clear from the series of memories that they spent a long time together, the seasons changing.

"He was traumatized by what he went through. He didn't talk. But he found all kinds of ways to communicate with me. He didn't trust a lot of people, in the beginning, but...he trusted me. He listened to me, he'd settle down for me. By the time we got to what was left of civilization...we were family. He, uh...he has a new family now, I couldn't stay with him, but...I know he's with people that care about him."

Not who he was supposed to be with, but...Nadine had spent enough time in Boulder to feel certain that if Stu and Fran hadn't taken Joe in, then that young woman Lucy had. And that's okay. He's safe in Boulder, and as much as it kills her that he had to lose his second family...he'll have a life. And maybe, someday, he'll understand what she'd done for him, before leaving.

Maybe he already does.

And she's glad, too, that Jaskier has gotten to see this. She'd never kept Joe a secret intentionally, he's just something she doesn't talk about. He's part of another life, a life long lost to her. But he's also the best thing she'd ever done.

"He...god, he was my whole world for months. It was just us, for a long time. I never knew how badly I wanted that, until Joe. How badly I wanted to be someone's mother. I'm really lucky that I got to."

[carmesi]

[definitely not the answer she was expecting, though it does make her... laugh a little. she's been finding, from her limited interactions with jasper, that the man has a dry sense of humor, easy-to-miss jokes thrown about at any given moment.

she points at the memory of himself, at the demon-form he transformed into.]

After that, perhaps you would be very hungry.

[please—]

How come you're ... not like that here?

[earthborn]

Amazons, huh? [She's not sure if Diana is serious or not, but— it's just plausible enough to work. Hell, what does she know, maybe that's a real thing. The universe got a lot bigger, when she woke up here.] What, are they all as beautiful as you?

[And just where is she from?]

That's a little complicated. I would have said here, not too long ago. Or, a world like it.

[Not here-here. Not some fabulous vacation island full of hypothetical tall goddess-women. Damn. She'd have never left, if that had been the case.]

I'm from the city, grew up on the streets. But I left Earth as soon as I could, so. I'm from space now, I guess. Systems Alliance Navy; I'm a soldier.

[provenforce]

Rey had barely arrived in the Horizon when the headache set in. Then one minute she was standing on the deck of the Millennium Falcon the next in an apartment somewhere unclear to her as a small naked boy screaming and laughing runs past her.

"There's my little buddy!" a man Rey immediately identifies as Lando Calrissian laughs and scoops the small boy up into his arms, who giggles and laughs.

"Ben?" she whispers with realization, looking around the scene and seeing a much younger and more alive Han Solo conversing with a droid as it takes Ben away from Lando. The moment of seeing Han making her heart soar is cut short as the droid carries Ben away, who is screaming and crying for his Uncle Lando.

The scene shifts abruptly and she finds herself crouched in a hut next to a sleeping Ben Solo. He looks so much younger but no less careworn than the one she knows as Kylo Ren. Standing above him is Luke Skywalker, his hand outstretched. A look of agony passes over his face as he reaches for his lightsaber and ignites it. Rey watches in shock as Ben reacts, pulling the hut down around them, then throwing the stones away from him. She climbs from the wreckage beside him as he looks out at the Jedi temple. She feels his anger, his confusion as a storm cloud rolls in over the temple.

Suddenly there's a lightning strike from the sky, and it bursts into flames.

"No! No! I didn't want this!" He cries as he runs towards the burning building. Another explosion knocks him back.

"And you did not choose it, Ben. The JEDI did. Skywalker." Rey's skin crawls as she hears Snoke's voice as Ben must have heard it so often. Suddenly the scene changes again.

Kylo Ren is arguing with Snoke, unsure of his path, she watches as Snoke strikes him with electricity, so casually he may as well be commenting on the weather. The scene changes several more times, but each time it's Snoke. Beating the defiance out of Ben Solo. Shaping him into Kylo Ren. Rey can only watch on in horror, until just as suddenly as it came, it was gone again.

Standing alone once again in her simulacrum of the Falcon she takes a shuddering breath. Then she pulls herself out of the Horizon, returning to where she sits in the middle of her bed with the curtains drawn. Angrily she drops the mental barriers she's put up, using the Force to locate Kylo faster than asking around would have allowed her.

Of course he's exactly where she'd expect him to be, in his study. She rather aggressively suggests that his mages all take a hike with a wave of her hand, before shutting the door.

"Do you think it's funny, forcing your way into my mind like that?"

[gynvael]

Probably not. He's long accepted very little stops the Singularity. Like trying to stop a storm. It exists as it does; he just doesn't know why their connection in particular is so...unstable.

There's a noncommittal tilt to his mug, which functions as a half-shrug. Does he? Not quite. But he'd rather know what it was she did see than not—if they're looking at You slaughtered multiple men in the streets or That's a fucking happy childhood. The latter, apparently.

He hesitates. "It isn't that. Our world was overrun with monsters once. They created us to kill them. Most don't survive the process."

It almost sounds understandable, put that way. It isn't, really. But it was never as simple as being needlessly cruel, either. Just—what. Circumstances? Men acting out of fear and desperation as they often do? Something like that. Mages brought back batches of boys, but so did other Witchers, even after living through the Trials. It's a complicated thing, when the very existence of your own kind relies on lives stolen from children. An ugly cycle that died in flames by the end, anyhow.