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

[cryptsleeper]

[With eyes closed, Alucard tilts his head back, face pointed towards the ceiling. His cheeks are flushed, he's fighting the urge to turn into bats and flee. Not that his head could manage being bats at the moment, the world is still swimming around him. Everything is too sharp, too focused.

But the edges slowly soften. He breathes out only once it feels that his head isn't going to split in two, and at that, Alucard finally stops digging his nails into his palms. The wounds heal instantly, but the blood remains.]

I can genuinely say I've had worse. [His voice is still uneven, as is the exhale that follows it.]

We may need something stronger than wine.

[frontlinetitties]

[She eyes the blood dripping from his palms and clicks her tongue against her teeth, resists the urge to ask to see. She's no medic, wouldn't know what the hell to do with him anyway, and she knows he's too hardy for scratches to bother him for long. So instead she breathes in deep, takes stock of herself. Somewhere at the edges of her consciousness she becomes dimly aware of what she'd unwittingly shared with him-- it had been hard to tell though, what with the way his memory had folded over her. But she's cognizant of it enough to know that she isn't exactly pleased. The moments leading up to the one defeat that had ever really knocked her sideways. Momentarily crushed the hope out of her. Eww.

Slowly, she nods.]

Yeeeeaaaaah, definitely something stronger.

[And then, with a touch more caution.]

D'you know what I saw, just now?

[cryptsleeper]

[Alucard faintly realizes eactly how much blood has gathered on his palms, and for a moment, looks around. There's nothing he can safely wipe the drying blood onto, and so with a little bit of embarrassment, he settles for drying them against the legs of his trousers. It isn't ideal, but it is safer. He's never quite figured out if his blood can turn people the way a full blooded vampire can.]

Any requests?

[He's paying. Bare minimum he can do, since this is his fault.

But the question has his attention. The pause doesn't drag on, but his voice betrays concern.]

Something that isn't upsetting, for once?

[princessvegas]

Yeah, it's happenin' to us in Cadens, too, but I didn't see you until I came into the Horizon.

[ It sounds like she was going about her business when it suddenly happened. She doesn't bring up the involvement of her manifested assistant. She's not sure whether he actually had anything to do with it or whether the timing was coincidental. And she also hasn't told anyone that she is becoming more and more suspicious that he is something different from the other manifested people she controls.

Kylo's hands glow hot, dangerous, and Julie's eyes flick to them apprehensively for a moment. ]

Um, it was in space. A battle, I guess, there was a lot of explosions and spaceships soarin' around. There was a woman. She was somewhere else, not in the same little ship as you... and me, I guess, too. But I could see her. I think you could too, I think that's how I was able to see her. 'Cause you remembered it like that. [ Her brow is deeply knit, and at some point, her gaze falls downward, like she can't meet his eye. She knows she's seen something very personal, through no fault of her own, and it feels so awkward to have to explain it. ] You couldn't -- you didn't fire after that. Then it was over, so I came here.

[sorser]

[No, of course not. It isn’t what he said that day that’s the unforgivable offense; it’s the revelation that followed, the images playing a truth pulled from his mind for her to see, clear as day. Hidden, though he had nothing to hide — in the end, it was a lie of omission.

This is difficult for him. His responsibilities have always been to keep Earth safe, to help as many as possible, and the choice to give the Time Stone away had been the only viable option. Wring all the emotion out of it, and it was the easiest, too.

But things are never so simple. He had, in essence, made a choice for half of the universe, had taken away so much because he alone deemed it necessary. A gamble. Only the coldest heart would feel no guilt, no weight from the decision itself; and though Stephen keeps his close to the chest, it still bruises as easily as anyone else’s.

His actions have consequences. He can those same consequences etched on her face, darkened with anger.]

I know.

[He cannot undo what had happened then. He doesn’t seek to. Contrasted with the guilt and trauma of those five years and the events surrounding them, he inherently knows that he would not have made a different decision.]

But I want you to understand why I did it. That I had to give up the stone to save countless lives in the end. I went through millions and millions of options, Wanda, and it was the only way.

[There was no victory without sacrifice.]

[supersoldier]

[A part of him is stubborn and feels no need to dismiss his SOLDIER uniform (no matter how impractical it may be), but Sephiroth relents as soon as he crosses the threshold past the door. His proclivity for black clothing still exists, but he wears plainclothes as she requested — the simple cut of a black coat replaces the leather duster; his button-down shirt beneath is unbuttoned around the neck; his pants are unremarkable, but still possess the lines of a military garb. His gloves are gone, leaving on his bare hands.]

Better?

[Dryly.

Still, he looks around, the building unlike any he’s visited. No doubt there are similar structures on Gaia, maybe nestled in small towns like the one he had visited before arriving here, but that’s the extent of his knowledge when it comes to quaint and cozy places.]

I wouldn’t expect many places to be like Shinra. Is this one significant to you?

[It must be. He won’t just assume it’s her home, though that seems to be the theme with domains in general.]

[carmesi]

[no matter how doctor strange is trying to sort his actions, filter the reason why it was all necessary, wanda can't help but feel like it's a cold logic. she's too caught up in the moment—in the emotion that burns still at the memory of losing vision not once, but twice. it's a compounding of everything, and the man standing before her trying to offer an apology by explaining things to her—as if she doesn't get it—is a bigger injury than anything else.

wanda is more than willing to live in the painful reality that vision is gone. though she was the one to kill him at first, it was his choice to make, and, beyond everything else, wanda respects it.

for doctor strange to stand here and offer anything but an apology?]

Out.

[wanda is not one for physicality, not when she's fending off against others. but, today? in this moment? she breaches the space between her and doctor strange, uses her hands to press against his chest and shove him, to step back and off her porch.]

Get out!

[isn't this just a way to make himself feel better? she's hurt, by his words and his actions—and not a single word out of him right now sounds to her like he's apologizing for her sake. she steps forward and pushes him away one more time; she doesn't care if he'll trip on the steps.]

I don't want to see you. I don't want to hear you. You don't get it — you never will, and you've come here for yourself!

[sorser]

[He doesn’t have time to reply. And he wonders, before anything else transpires, if she’s right — if he’s fully deserving of her anger, because it’s simply the price he must pay for making his own decisions. Apologies feel weak and hollow; he offers a reasonable explanation instead. Reasonable explanation feels cold; he cannot find a grounding point of connection between them to clarify, not when that foundation had already been shattered. Stephen stands there, frustrated at his own silence, at his own uselessness to fix this, and doesn’t resist when Wanda pushes him the first time.

He feels it then, creeping at the edges of his consciousness. Ghost-like images trying to wheedle into the crevices of his mind. No, not now. Distracted, Wanda shoves him again, and he takes a backward step as the memory collides into him without hesitation, without mercy.

Stephen watches through her eyes Vision’s death, twice over. It’s not fair, he says. It shouldn’t be you, but it is. And perhaps that’s emblematic of everything else that happens — her emotions are not his, but they are so stark that they might as well be physical, they might as well rend him in two. Vision is gone, the stone destroyed by her own magic, and he can only watch, knowing the worst is to come. Knowing that Thanos will turn all of this pain and sacrifice into nothing,

And he does.

Vision’s second death sickens him, watching the power he once had guardianship over used in this way. Years later, and the sight of the Mad Titan still incites dread in the pit of his stomach, like a poison that still hasn’t dissipated. He feels it now. The reaction to him stealing away the Mind Stone, wrenching it from a newly-revived Vision, is not his own trauma — but he understands it. Witnesses it. It may as well be.

When the memory ends, Stephen finds himself on the ground, his head splitting, his stomach rolling. The stairs of Wanda’s porch sits beside him, having fallen off after she had shoved him a second time, caught by his cloak to ease the fall but too assaulted by memory to notice. He grasps for the ground with weak hands, trying to push himself up, trying to sort through what he’s seen, trying to—]

I couldn’t—

[He thinks of Vision’s corpse, lifeless, drained, discarded.]

—save everyone.

[The admittance is guttural, grave. Desperate.]

I couldn’t fix everything, I wanted to, but I—

[He couldn’t. He lived through millions of realities filled with death, pain, failure, to seek out one single thread of hope. And even the one he found was still tainted with loss. Its own pockets of pain.]

[provenforce]

"So you know what I mean when I say things are complicated," she replies wryly, glancing over at the other woman. Their situations are hardly identical, but what two situations are?

"Kylo killed his father. Before... what you saw. He had killed his father, and I thought he'd just killed my friend." Rey speaks quietly as they enter the dining hall, which fortunately isn't too packed, probably because others are off panicking about whatever is happening. "I wanted to kill him. I thought he wanted to kill me too."

[provenforce]

She recoils very slightly when he dismisses her accusation, doubt curling in the pit of her stomach. Her memories had been shared with others unbidden already, though that had always been via touch. She'd just reacted so quickly, because the things she'd seen were all things that reminded her of who Ben was. It's the kind of manipulation she'd expect.

"Memories," she replies, a little less harshly. "But I was on the Horizon, nowhere near you, and even with our connection it's always taken touch for me to see anything." A connection that part of her misses, but that part is packed away below her anger and her fear of being hurt.

[carmesi]

[wanda watches him fall, sees the signs that he's going through the bizarre flux of memories that's drowning their thoughts at any random time. she breathes shakily, watching him coil in pain, and in the quiet of her domain she steps down the steps to the ground. there's dread, wondering what he sees—if her own memory, or someone else's—and is starkly reminded of what she had seen hours before.

doctor strange in a car, looking so different from now, allowing his arrogance to send him spiraling down a steep cliff, his hubris destroying the one thing he ever prided himself on: his immaculate hands. wanda watches them as they curl into fists, sitting on her haunches by him, silent. she had wondered about the scars, and now she knows.

about the countless surgeries to fix them to no avail; of bridges he burnt; of solace in the magic of kamar-taj and his rookie attempts to use it with little success at first. it's strange to see that such a well-versed sorcerer struggled not too long ago.

he speaks, pulling out of whatever memory he's envisioned, and his words—they draw tears from her eyes. she's so tired of this pain—of working so hard, of sacrificing so much, only to end up with nothing.

wanda swallows thickly, and—despite herself—despite her anger, her resentment, she finds one of his hands, wraps her hands around it. his broken hands are big, her own unbroken ones warm around it. she saw loss in his memories, of a man who is used to control having to deal with not having it. wanda wonders what it's like—to ever have control of your own life, but figures she can't hate him for how different their lives were. to have that guilt pulsing through him the way his words indicate, she can't imagine.

in the same way he could never imagine what it's like for her, to have the chaos be offered a sense of control, only to be whisked away.

wanda's words are thick, wet, barely proper sounds outside of muttered grief.]

I know what sacrifice is. I killed him for the sake of half the universe. I knew the stakes, I was willing to make them. I took responsibility. But you, the stone you kept, it erased all that. It took my pain for granted. It took Vis's choice away.

[there's a shaky breath, but her expression shifts, softens. she takes a hold of his other hand, gently, and helps him sit up.]

I'm tired. I'm tired of being misunderstood. You're... I wish I could trust you.

[she says these things, but her actions are the opposite of them. she keeps his hands in hers.]

Won't you listen to me. [a whisper:] Really listen, Stephen?

[not the act of listening, but understanding—meaningfully so.]

[princessvegas]

[ One thing is becoming abundantly clear to Julie about this whole memory-swapping debacle: whatever is orchestrating it really wants her to know what a great dad Geralt of Rivia is. Which is great and super hot, but also not really worth the price of this pain and general inconvenience.

By now, she's almost become accustomed to the breakneck way that fragmented memories thread together, switch scenes without warning. It's the terrifying centipede abomination that catches her off-guard, adult Julie stuck against the cliff right next to Ciri, trapped by legs and stone and the nightmarish, huge head of the beast.

Julie has never seen a monster before, at least not alive and outside of Geralt and Ciri's kitchen. She does not handle her first one well, especially given the fact that none of this is really happening. Her mind can only register the danger, the fear, and her hands go right through Ciri's shoulders as she grabs on instinct. Julie shrieks as a flash of black and white falls behind the monster, and she realizes what's happening only as the monster's head is fully cleaved from its body, hits the ground with a sickening, wet noise.

By the time she realizes that the memory is changing again, things are starting fly by so quickly that it's hard to parse them all. The rat on the wall (???), the bandages, the physical affection -- she is stuck next to them as they shift positions, switch clothes, make all the adjustments that show this is happening across weeks and months.

Only when they finally stop in a ballroom can Julie catch her breath, understand what she's seeing. The woman, so obviously Ciri's mother, and the man who must be her father, despite the lack of resemblance. Their hands begin to turn to dust, blow away on wind that isn't there. Geralt's voice echoes all around them, like a medieval loudspeaker, "We belong together. You, us."

There's nothing Julie can do except stand next to them as they fade, as Ciri watches.

"It's not perfect, but it is real. We are your family, and we need you."

Ciri turns to walk away as her parents crumble to ash, and when Julie gasps, opens her eyes to find herself on the ground yet again, her cheeks are wet. She gags and coughs, droplets dark with eyeliner falling into the dirt. ]

[gynvael]

So that's the name. The sound he makes is of vague acknowledgment. Garrus, Eden Prime. He slides the information away without commenting. The memories he's slipped into in the past were chaotic, torn at the edges. This one is much more steady, and he supposes he can see why when it's all fairly quiet.

He wants to say, When have they ever? because he's never met a king or council in his life who gives a fuck about a few hundred dead of their own kind, never mind the other races. How many humans are slaughtered in a matter of days at the hands of other humans, because they bear a different flag or sit on a piece of coveted land? (Because they habour one princess who fled the kingdom?) Thousands? Not that it matters. Loss is loss. One or many, it all cuts the same.

He brushes his fingers through a glass surface. He can't touch it, of course. He's been to castles and throne rooms. They do not reach the level of opulence this entire space conveys. It makes Cintra feel like a backwater village.

There's a slight squint at the statue of the frog-like creature looming. Intriguing. "Why were you the one to tell them? Did you find the bodies?"

[earthborn]

"They weren't actually after the colonists, it's just that people living there were in the way," Shepard tells him, while the memory of what this walk had orignally had been stops to look at the statue as well, full of pointless commentary, "Got there right at the tail end of the attack— the bigger issue is, they're being led by a rogue Spectre, and comprised of Geth, and that there's a fucking Reaper in charge of the whole thing. That's the extinction of all intelligent life, not just one colony."

The council wouldn't care if a hundred thousand humans died. They wouldn't care if a million. They probably wouldn't care if all of them died, but Shepard still has to believe she can at least guilt them into something, even now. The alternative is the death of the galaxy.

"Not that they care— oh shit, the preacher guy," She coughs a laugh, and looks ahead to where a luminescent jellyfish, seven feet tall and balanced on a series of long, tapering tentacles is rippling with color, bright and difficult to ignore, "I almost forgot about that asshole."

The elevator to the council chambers was looming above them, seeming narrow only because it was so tall, and then it was nothing but the long, scenic lift ride. At first it was just the presidium itself, from higher and grander angles, and the sky rushing up and down past, and then a long moment of dark. And then the grand and glorious view of the citadel from the center, all the ward arms spread out like the petals of a flower, glittering, with the deep velvet-black of space visible between them, and the brilliant Widow Nebula speckled with stars.

Think they'll actually do anything?

Have some faith, Williams.

I'm just saying.

Keep living in that dream, Kaidan. It's inspirational.

Silence reigned and the magnificence slid by, was abruptly replaced by darkness again, and then they were there. The Council chambers, and a pair of arguing Turians in blue armor at the top of the stoop. The memory was attenuating, the chamber up beyond was opulent, beautiful, full of flowering trees and vaulted ceilings, populated by well-dressed sentients of every shape, but it was fragmenting away.

Commander Shepard! he had blue markings across his face, plates smooth and unscarred, and turning towards them with enough angry desperation that the memory of Shepard checked her progress.

"Damn, look at him," But it was over, it was fading, or would be very soon, "He's so young."

[gynvael]

[ Her reaction makes him pause. Geralt places his hand on her arm. ] It isn't your fault.

[ He's sorry, too. For what happened back then, or maybe for seeing it uninvited. He knows, of course. She's told him. It isn't the same. Geralt has told her things he's not told many others, but it'd still be...different, if she actually saw it. Experienced it. The things he went through. No one needs to see that, either. One or two have, and he isn't sure how he feels about it.

His expression flickers. Funny, that it's the rotting heat which make it a little easier to pull apart the memories from his own. The corpses never rotted in the snow. Even summers never grew particularly hot in the mountains. ]

I'm glad you aren't there anymore. [ It isn't something he'd say to many, but it rings true. Some worlds are not meant to be lived in, and hers is one of them. Maybe it isn't fair, as she said. That so much suffering had to befall her and the world to end up here. Maybe it isn't fair that she is here and others were never afforded the chance. He doesn't know. He only knows that on the smallest of scales, where Nadine and Julie are concerned (where the people he cares about are concerned)—it's...they don't deserve to be trapped on a dead sphere, haunted by corpses and demons. ]

[gynvael]

[ He huffs out a laugh, pressing another plank of wood into the ground. His fingers pause atop it as he waits for Alucard to pass him the mallet. ]

How much time have you got? [ There's a long list. They have ten decades between them all and their winters, even in their older years, have often been...mm. Unruly. Just what happens when you bring a dozen or two men who've not seen each other in months together. It's a wonder Vesemir hasn't barred them all from returning. ] We found a wyvern nest once. He was the one who convinced us to capture a hatchling as a pet.

[ It isn't the first time he's told this story. One of those memories that's easy to recount. Free of any...complicated matters, like some of his others. It's only a few boys, being fucking idiots and paying the price. ]

[gynvael]

[ So far, the memories that have assaulted him come from those not near him at all in the Horizon. When his vision clears as he stumbles out into the snow and he sees the man before him, he stops abruptly. Blinks.

He releases a breath. Right. ] I don't even know what the fuck you saw.

[ The reply is gruff, a sense that this is less personal and more that Geralt is: one, naturally curmudgeonly on his best of days; and two, is especially not in the mood after a few days of this shit.

Still, he seems to soften a hint, as though he recognizes the man standing in front of him isn't. At fault. Exactly. ] You were with a boy. Training him.

[blackeyedprince]

At first, Kell is only confused, but his frown deepens the longer he listens. His London is far from egalitarian. There's the royal family, the aristocracy, and the rest. He's not blind, never has been. He knows that there are those who fare better in life only because of their better station. That the nobles would turn their nose at everyone else. So hierarchy existed, but it had duties too and not only privileges. The royalty and nobility were there to provide for the people, as much as they got to benefit from their position, and they did.

To have actual underclass? Living literally beneath you? It's hard to comprehend.

Kell turns to look at Council members currently arguing over the verdict. He can't understand those people.

"If you made your inventions for the benefit of the people, then who were they to keep those from them. Don't you have a king to make decisions in such matters?"

[nadine_he_loves]

It isn't as though Nadine can just stop going to work and classes because she's sometimes sharing memories with other Summoned. And there are so many people in Cadens, she figures the risk is relatively low.

But of course, accidents happen.

Oh god, she's here again. A part of her wonders if this is the universe trying to tell her something. If so, she gets the message. But how the hell is she possibly going to explain this, or put it in any context? She barely knows Garrus...

"It's...uh...it's somebody else's memory."

At least she's been through this already and knows what it is - if not why it's happening. She can only watch along with him, though.

In the memory unfolding before them, 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!"

[impressionism]

"Wow. Guess I can see why you went batshit on him."

Hennessy can't comment on the killing of his father -- because to be frank, she'd kill hers given half a chance -- but she understands defending a friend, and how complicated allegiances can be when everything's life and death.

She grabs a mug from the coffee station and starts filling it while contemplating the current mess, both interpersonal and magical.

"For what it's worth, I don't think he wants to kill anyone here, or he would've by now."

[blackeyedprince]

Kell wants to protest, to say something, but there's a glint in his brother's eyes that makes his pause, forces him to remain silent. He sinks down back on the bed, shoulders sagging, half-empty glass almost forgotten in his hand.

It feels so unfair. What he is supposed to do? He didn't mean to imply that it's been all sunshine and roses for his brother. They both lost their ground coming here. And to add to that, Rhy is tethered to this Singularity, source of magic or whatever it is. Still, he was able to find people here. Not one, but two lovers.

Kell? He has no one but him. No place he can even pretend he fits in. And now he really doesn't know what his brother wants from him. It's wrong when he says he believes they still need each other, it's wrong when says that Rhy is doing well on his own. It seems everything he says or does is wrong. What he is supposed to do? Apologize for trying? He could. Would it help? How he's supposed to know...

what a great choice 😂

[hylife]

[ The current Link's hand is over his face, his face heating up from more than the memory of the blistering Gerudo sun, now. It's - it wasn't embarrassing until she laughed. Link would never assume Aerith's intentions to be cruel, but as a 17-year-old young man, there is simply something instinctual in his gut that twists with just a tinge of humiliation at the most well-meaning of teases.

He'd never have let something as simple as clothing stop him from doing what he needed to do for Hyrule, however! ]

It's a traditional Gerudo dress. Gerudo City is off-limits to men, so I had to...

[ He shrugs, a bit gingerly. It never feels great to admit a moral failing, but this might be a case where the end eventually justified the means. Chief Riju did forgive him, in the end... even if he's had to endure those chilling looks from her guards - the very few in the know - ever since. ]

Lie a bit?

[ Belatedly, the circumstances dawn on him. He looks over his shoulder, back to the desert, hazy in the distance... but it isn't just the shimmering of the heat off the sands that makes their surroundings feel so strangely liminal. Then he looks back to himself. The memory of himself, standing in front of the bleached clay walls of Gerudo City.

Link's head is pounding; he realizes he has a hand to his forehead as if he's been holding it. It feels like he's just woken up from a taking Moblin club to the noggin. ]

What in Hylia's -

[provenforce]

"He has what he wants here," Rey replies, a little dourly as she picks up her own mug. "Power, respect. We got into an argument in the street, the first few days I was here. He had been stalking me, and yet I was the one the people were afraid of."

It was uncomfortable, how much she'd hated that. In the Resistance she was viewed as a little odd by many of the people, but her small group liked her. Here she had no one, and he had an entire castle town that loved him.

"He's also killed everyone he might want to kill already, except maybe me."

[londonbound]

Rhy looks away, finishing the rest of his cup in one swallow, lips twisting at the strong taste. The glass clinks onto the desk.

"You are neither my babysitter nor my guard dog. I know you think my life is your duty, but it isn't. Least of all here." The words sound harsh, but he doesn't mean them that way. Rhy grips the edge of the table, and his voice catches, almost breaking. "I never want you to be in that situation again. I don't want to be used to hurt you anymore."

[blackeyedprince]

The greatest change, the most shocking, the one that still surprises him and makes him pause, remains how people treat him in Thorne. Or rather, what is missing from his usual experience. The awe and the fear. People turning away, so they don't have to look at him, avoiding even the sight of his black eye. Here, they don't. Here his eye is a curiosity, a conversation starter. Not a brand.

Rhy always looked directly at him. He was one of the two people that always did.

"Your safety was my duty." Kell starts, staring at his glass. He could use a drink, but just can't make himself to raise the glass. "But it's not out of sense of duty that I wanted to protect you. That I still do. To the best of my ability. With everything I have. It's not because of duty. It's because it was you."

"You were the only one that looked straight at me." His voice breaks, but Kell is determined to push through this even if it earns him a second black eye again. Because it's important. "And saw me. Not Antari, not blessed or cursed by magic. Not a weapon. Me." Rhy and Tieren, no one else. "How can I not want to protect you?"