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

[sorser]

It takes a moment. Somehow, with a few more deep breaths and a stubborn countenance, he manages to lift his head to look at her without feeling like he might vomit.

"No apologies needed. It was riveting," he says, sarcastic, but not so much at the expense of her shared memory than the fact they both had to go through it at all. "Not sure if it's exactly blackmailing material, though."

With a heaving sigh, he manages to push himself back up to his feet. He offers her a scarred hand to do the same.

"Saw you... learning. What'd you see of mine?"

[earthborn]

"Well, there are good people here too, and things worth fighting for, even dying for, if it comes to that. Sorry I couldn't produce a utopia for you," The memory of Kaidan is the last to step into the elevator, and Shepard follows it, motioning for Jesper to follow her, "It is pretty, at least. Give it that."

You can't deny it; the elevator goes up and up and up, and the higher vantage only makes the presidium's shining glow more obvious. Clean and white, blue water, green plants, beautiful people fashionably dressed as they moved and shopped among it all. And then darkness as the elevator shaft breached the bulkhead, and then...

Yet more glories still: the ward-arms, glittering with the lights of their eternal cityscapes, and beyond them the magnificent colors of the widow nebula.

"Hey, you wanna see what my boyfriend looked like when he was still smooth and pretty?"

[sorser]

[He knows she's right. He had known it before this moment, before she even says the words, before she offers her hand on his own to help him up. He does not fight the gesture; he feels as though there's hardly enough spark in him to resist even if he wanted to, but he doesn't.]

I know. I took more than just your choice away, or his. When half of the universe is at stake, then- [His voice is airy, shaky, but finally he can lift his head to look at her evenly, frowning. Imploring, despite deep lines wrinkling across his brow.] -then I've effectively made the choice for all of that half, too.

[And still, he would not have made another choice. He knew then it was necessary, and he knows it now, too. But there is a point he can accede, something that he perhaps should have said long before now, instead of hoping against hope for the right time, right place to tell her the truth about the Time Stone.]

And I'm... I'm sorry that all it did was cause more pain for the both of you. I wish everything could have turned out differently, Wanda. I'm not trying to...

[He trails off. He's not trying to not listen. But arguing the point feels ironically tone-deaf, too. It is up to her whether or not she decides to trust him. Whether or not this chasm can be crossed.]

[carmesi]

[wanda looks about—spares yennefer commenting that this cave-like space with a pool doesn't feel like a school exactly, but something about the other woman's tone stills her tongue. it's not that all of them have enjoyed sharing their memories, no matter how lovely some of them may be.

regardless, a place that taught her so much, shouldn't it make her... happier?

she hovers on the question for a moment, glancing about and wringing her hands, waiting for something to happen]

What are the pools for?

[carmesi]

[geralt in the memory says her name, and then there's the screaming again. the memory can't hurt them, but the shrill scream is as loud as it was then as it is now, and wanda covers her ears with her hands in an attempt to dull it out.

something is most definitely off, as the tree splinters. she looks at geralt worriedly. her hands lower from her ears, looking back at the girl with the fair hair and emerald-green eyes. this girl, this child, is important to geralt. wanda is only sorry that he has to relive this again.]

Does she make it out alright?

[there is no telling if the memory will end or continue, and wanda knows it is not her place to start shoving her opinion on what she sees.]

[funbreaker]

[ She has children as well? Twins. Thancred's eyebrows raise at that; he's a tad surprised that this hadn't come up before now. They'd spoken of who they'd lost, siblings or sibling figures, but not this. Not Ryne, not her boys.

Perhaps because when it came to children, it was that much more personal. Something shared only with a person you trusted. Not that their memories are giving them much choice in the matter.

The scene that they're transported into is difficult to parse, though he imagines that Wanda felt the same way about what they just witnessed. Wanda stands at the center of it all, surrounded by people who appear to be recovering from something. Another woman with long dark hair speaks over the crowd.

What's stopping you? Heroes don't torture people.

Torture? Thancred looks around, at the unfamiliar buildings and the automobiles that he only knows from stints spent in Garlemald. Then, Wanda as she exists in the memory raises both hands overhead, sending swaths of bright red energy toward the sky, which begins to split open.

She'd spoken of using magick, but Thancred could truly not have imagined anything like this. While he cannot be entirely certain of what power is at play here, it seems on-par with the most learned of black mages, and mayhap even beyond that.

Don't think less of me, Wanda entreats him, and Thancred glances down to her, not entirely certain what to think. ] That would require me understanding what's happening here first. [ She's a friend of Himeka's. He's seen her kindness. He won't jump to conclusions. ] ... Though I suppose you did say it was a long story.

[wickedprayers]

That leaves the two of them, though what Thane does can't really be described as "gaping", but the feeling is definitely there in the way he stares at Garrus.

"A woman." He repeats it as if that will somehow clear things up with Garrus, or himself. But alas, the sky does not part the clouds to clear this situation up.

Thane looks back to the memory of Shepard. "Perhaps you and I are seeing two very different things. That, or my illness has now affected my mind beyond repair."

Maybe the reason he hasn't seen hide nor hair of his sickness is that he's too far gone to even notice anymore.

[carmesi]

[wanda will have to apologize later for what she is about to do—the only thing she can do, raising her hand and allowing her fingers to dance over the other woman's forehead, magic pooling from her wrist into her fingers, spilling into julie's mind. wanda digs into threads of happier memories julie might harbor, sucks in a deep breath when she finds more splinters of grief and pain, put away behind heavily locked doors. she continues—seeks something comforting within abraxas.

time spent with new friends, laughter, drinks, reasons to look forward to getting out of bed.]

Hn—

[wanda has to keep her focus, and when she anchors onto something that's inherently good, she lets it take over for a moment, pulling her hand away and trying to remove whatever bad may have spilled onto her own mind.

she sits back, on the chair she had been on, and squeezes at julie's arm.]

Julie?

[wickedprayers]

He expects it, which is why he's able to quickly step back. To his surprise, she's surprised, not because of his sudden appearance — literally and figuratively — but because she knows him. Not from a memory...not with the way she reacts.

Fortunately, he thinks he understands what's happening. When Garrus saw his memory of the hospital there had been...questions...and discussions...along with lots of confusion.

"Shepard," he confirms more to himself than anything, as well as to see her reaction in the off chance that he's wrong. "There seems to be something going around. You are not the first I've come across doubled over in pain or confusion."

He's at a loss for how to broach this. Frankly, he's still unsure how to deal with it himself.

"You've witnessed a memory."

[carmesi]

It's not fair.

[he trails off, but wanda doesn't bother to listen to what else he may be trying to put into neat, logical sentences. she interjects, knowing that even when she speaks quietly, stephen will listen, because she asked him to.

and for all that wanda may disagree with all these men who make decisions for her, who assume they know best, she knows their heart is in the right place.]

It's not fair that Thanos wanted the Mind Stone. It's not fair that you had to make that choice.

[wanda gets that—that horrible feeling of responsibility, like the pressure of the world is on your shoulders. she's felt it in a smaller scale, how gut wrenching it is, when sokovia was destroyed because of the fear she planted in tony stark's mind.

she swallows thickly, tears rolling down her cheeks. she lets go of his hands now, letting her own drop to her lap.]

I couldn't stand this pain. [her eyes blink the tears away, a tired sigh spilling in her words.] It's why Westview happened, and it's not — [another pause, now revealing that she's seen his memories, too.] You had teachers. Friends. A home, when you lost your hands. I only had Vis.

[her hands curl into fists, pulling at the fabric of her clothes.]

I only had him.

[wickedprayers]

I have no doubt. Even in my own world my kind stand out, but I managed well.

[ He appreciates the show of concern from this stranger, though. Normally he would decline for many reasons...but speaking with someone who actually knows their way around the settlement, who may know more of this world in general, is a good idea. Contacts were important no matter the profession.

Thane offers a small nod of his head. ]

I would appreciate that very much, Wanda. [ Though before she leads the way, he pauses, and adds: ] Kolyat is a good kid.

[ Would he, or could he, ever end up here? It brought Shepard and Garrus here, so perhaps. But in the off chance his son was dragged into this world as he was...he would like to clear up whatever negative impressions that memory may possibly have caused, if any. He doesn't care what anyone thought of himself, but his son...]

[funbreaker]

I would be concerned if I didn't. This is my memory, after all.

[ While Thancred may not recall the specific details, given that this was some years ago by now, he has a general idea of how this is going to go.

The past version of him lifts one of the necklaces up from the stall and holds it against the young woman's neck, offering suggestions and compliments with a good deal of charm. It seems sweet enough at first glance.

Though, as the conversation continues and a necklace is decided on, it's the young woman who pays for the jewelry out of her own purse. The couple steps away from the stall together as Thancred remarks on how good it will look on her at the fête they'll be attending later that night. ]

... It was all a method of gathering information. [ Thancred speaks up suddenly, watching the memory instead of Zhou Zishu. ] She was nice enough, I'm certain. But unfortunately, only a means to an end.

[princessvegas]

[ It's definitely not strange to Julie to see herself from the outside. She used to spend hours and hours just staring into her phone camera at herself. If anything, she'll just pleased with being even hotter than she thought -- cameras do add ten pounds and highlight the flaws. But she's really hoping that she'll get lucky, won't have to be present for any of these other unfortunate exchanges that may befall her. She can handle other people's memories, but not her own.

Slowly pulling her leg back toward herself, she catches his wrist with a chuckle, tugs him to her. ]

Well, she is scarier'n you by a mile. But I wouldn't threaten you. [ She leans back into the arm of the couch, fingers pressing into his arm. ] I could just lure you in instead.

[cointosser]

Suppose you smelled me a block down the path, after all.

[Look, once Geralt spoiled them with all the cheese and soap, he's decided he's at least putting a steady supply of coin into one of them. And the one he chose is definitely frilly, lovely little soaps.

Jaskier waves a hand.] Oh, please. Geralt of Rivia, do something selfless for my benefit? I could never imagine such a thing.

[So he moves close, shifts until they're seated close together, until he needn't reach to swipe a drink that is becoming less needed as the pain in his head is only a ghost. He would rather stay, too; not because of memories, but because he cannot get the image of that dream out of his mind. To be honest, it is far worse than memories.

It lines up so easily with the eyes he's sworn he's seen in the dark. The light of a flame.]

You may as well enjoy my company as you can, before your next desert excursion. [He tips his head back, looking benignly beautiful. It's a talent.] How about one of our baths? You know, like old times. I've got some stunning bergamot oil that smells absolutely lovely.

[cointosser]

[There is no escape, he has found, as the eye begins to peer everywhere. He was not safe with Geralt (though he was very lucky), and he was not safe in the Horizon, when he went to warn Alucard. After those memories in particular though, as those final words of Alucard's father echo in his head -- I'm killing our boy -- his only thought was to hole somewhere safe. Somewhere calm. He can at least be in control here. The blood of Bleobheris runs through his own veins, pulsing with his heartbeat.

There is solace here. A solace he forces on himself, mixed heavily with a calm that borders on unnatural. Curled up in a chair in the small workshop he has crafted himself, long lengths of tanned and cured leathers, beaded cords, and a tool he'd been introduced to for burning images into the leather before he binds the books together. It's work he's teaching himself along with some help from Cadens's libraries, and here he can perfect it without wasting perfectly fine materials.

There is no alarm to raise when a visitor comes. It's enough for Moglad to flutter up to the window, sword at his back, with a joyous expression. She's here! Yennefer! Moglad waves, but she didn't see.]

Yennefer? Now?

[Surely she knows what happening? She must. She must. But here she is, and -- and fuck, he hadn't really warned her about the overhaul, though he needn't explain himself to that witch anyway --

Jaskier steps out onto the balcony of the workshop, the sunshine above warm. And there she is, as she always is. Perfectly beautiful. A colored cloak.

And Smiling. That part is newer, and he still is accustoming himself to seeing it. Yet it is the best part, he thinks, other than her being newly showered.]

Wife! I see you return home after so long. Hold on a moment!

[Never a man to miss an entrance, he steps off the side of the balcony -- and perhaps in a trick he uses to mirror what he's seen Sephiroth does, wind and leaves swirl around him to slow his descent to a reasonable pace, until his boots hit the ground gently.

Immediately, he's grabbing Yennefer, pulling her into a very-needed embrace. For him.] It's good to see you again. No... nothing terrible brings you, I hope? No ill news?

[No stumbling into my memories? She looks fine, she's smiling... surely not.]

[cointosser]

[Oh, quite. They both look like shit. Even though he has dried, has been dried for quite a time, he feels all over as if the storm has brought him down, drenched him, and wrung him out. Distantly, though, he can feel the thread that is Radu -- grounding him, in a way, because he can feel something that must be a phantom of joy. An animal simplicity, delighting in rainfall. In the fury of a storm.

He putters. It doesn't feel... good, but it feels better. Automatic, he can clean his mind of everything else. (Even as he keeps hearing them. It was something about the tone. The smooth timbre. And the utter heartbreak.) Fill a kettle. Raise the fire. Boil. Pluck the leaves out of their tin.

Honestly, he cannot imagine eating, but the offering has been made and it is something to pick at with their fingers.] Wonderful. Let me look.

[Whether they were laying there before or have appeared from Jaskier's desperate searching for something, anything, comforting, he finds a stash of candied pistachios to place in a little dish, along with some dried apricots. Delicacies in many places on the Continent, laid out as simple as a loaf of bread here. The warm smell of the brewing tea, once poured, fills the room in a way nearly overpowering, like standing too close to a fire.

Smother those things down. The same way he's smothered the flame in the back of his mind, in the darkness of it, that sometimes snaps to life.

He places the plate in front of Alucard as he wastes more time with sugar cubes and a spot of milk. It isn't even how he drinks his tea, but it is something to do. Something to settle him.

And finally, he sits.] This is unprecedented on my part, I think, but I... I believe we could come to a mutual agreement. I think it may behoove us to agree not speak further on this experience.

[If it should bother them both so. He cannot stand the idea he should be any source of guilt nor lost sleep for the dhamphir, even though he gets rather much of it.]

[ofthesword]

Really should've just. Kept going. Pretended it wasn't a whole Thing, because now, acknowledging it has made it a whole Thing, and he has become unwelcomely burdened with the knowledge this guy is dying.

Soon. Incredibly soon. Hanging on by the cusp. The skin of his teeth.

Weird. And considering most of his experience with the dream walking was with his housemates, and they had been there, commenting, sharing it -- he'd sort of just assumed.

Oh. Great. Now it's twice as awkward. Explaining what, exactly, he saw in the guy's head.

"You're dying?" he says, like a question, but it's not supposed to be a question, but an explanation of what he'd seen. "I mean. Were. Are. Said you were. To a guy. Kerbal's?" Now he feels like he has to explain it. He's in too deep. There's no stopping it. The rock that is this conversation is just continuing to roll downhill. When he's talking to people about dying, it's usually because he's just saved them from it. This is. Really on the opposite end of the scale.

He's thrown off his train of thought (which was barely chugging along) when the guy (?) blinks, and it's all black again. That's. Huh. On top of his voice being... like that. "Sorry, you know, didn't mean to... uh. Intrude. Sort of happens, I guess. Here."

Actually, he's pretty sure this is the first time this sort of magic disharmony has happened (oh no, that sounds like something Wanda would say. Who has he become?) "It's not my first time."

Somehow, that sounds worse.

[frontlinetitties]

[She sees it there in the angles of his face, that flicker of concern. Concern for what, though? That she'd see something violent or morbid beyond all reason? Or that she'd catch something intimate and soft that was meant only for him? Fuck knows there is nothing of a gory nature that would have ruffled her; she knows some of the darkest parts of him, after all. Accepts the reasons for it.

She tries to look casual. Pushes a smile. Rolls one well-muscled shoulder in a shrug.]

Nothing upsetting. No blood or swords or anything like that. I'm almost disappointed.

[She says, and hopes he sees that for the joke it is.]

And hey, I trust your tastes waaaay more than mine. I usually roll with whatever's the least expensive, you know? As long as it's hot and hard and leaves me breathless, we're good.

[She says this last part with a waggle of the brows, for levity.]

[cryptsleeper]

You've gotten all the good, gory stories out of me anyway.

[Gideon's met the worst parts of him. She's one of only two people to know the full of it under Alucard's own disclosure, and it isn't something he forgets or takes lightly. Instead, the disappointment comment gets a soft little noise of real relief, and then he stands up again.]

I thought you swung the other way on that topic.

[It is a dead pan, and it is an exit note that lasts for all of the two minutes it takes for Alucard to return with two large glasses of something light brown with ice in it. He made sure it didn't smell like a bog (or Godbrand) before paying, and both glasses go back down on the table with a soft thud.]

It's aged in oak barrels, whatever it is. Smelled complex enough.

[Complex is for dog noses though. Mostly it smells like alcohol, along with hints of vanilla and oak. It's a decent whiskey, at any rate.]

If it wasn't upsetting, then may I ask what it as instead?

[cryptsleeper]

[At some point in all of Jaskier's puttering, Alucard picks himself up off the ground and deposits himself in a chair. The worst of the nausea has since passed, but there's still no color on his face and he's staring mostly at the table rather than at the bard. The rain pounds on the roof, ensuring that no real silence fills the air. At some point though, it becomes static. Background noise. Something that just fades into the background, making it quiet for real this time.

His gaze does glance up every so often though, just to make sure Jaskier has command of the kitchen. He's found the tea leaves, the perishables, everything that's needed. When the tea starts to brew, at least there's something. It smells good. Grounds Alucard a little, just as Radu's joy at the storm does for Jaskier.

When Alucard slides the tea cup over to himself, it is only to place his hands around it and absorb the warmth.]

Yes. [A single, too quickly spoken word. Alucard stares into his tea cup, then flinches at his own reflection. He looks a mess. Again.

He closes his eyes, exhaling.] I am sorry you saw that, Julian. It is easier to state what happened than it is to get into the details. I might have shared it eventually as a point of fact. I would never have wanted this.

[frontlinetitties]

[She just has time to crack a bright, pleased laugh - her nausea and that ugly sense of intrusion briefly forgotten - before he drifts away toward the bar without giving her a chance for a follow-up. No matter. Seeing her corrupting influence in action is enough for her. The deadpan delivery only makes it all the more entertaining.

When he returns moments later and sets a glass down in front of her, she's swift to lift it, to sniff it for herself and-- it smells of alcohol. There's something warm about the scent, and she wouldn't call it unpleasant. But beyond that, 'complex' is a fucking mystery to her. So she just nods as though she knows what he's talking about and lifts the glass to her lips--

--it licks a burning path down her throat, almost leaves her choking. It's good.]

Good shit.

[She says, and keeps her eyes on the dark liquid in her glass rather than on him as she answers. Just in case.]

I saw baby Al. You were a cute kid, by the way. Granted, my only real experience with kids was Harrow and she looked like a scrawny collection of sticks with a head. But um, it was just you as a kid. With your parents. It seemed like a good memory.

[She says the last part cautiously, finally lifts her eyes to watch his face.]

[cryptsleeper]

[Alucard's a little more cautious with his initial sip of the drink. He's already given it an appraisal sniff, aware of how strong the actual alcoholic scent happens to be. A tiny sip (it burns and burns good becomes a larger one, ice rattling in the glass as he lowers it back down onto the table.

Baby Al means that Alucard's eyes can meet Gideon's without any issue. There's a soft snort, more at her description of Harrow rather than at himself. He was a damn cute kid and he knows it.]

And now you know where I get my looks. [He was trying for deadpan. There's warmth there instead, because fuck it. Childhood was good. His parents were pretty excellent, all things considered.]

You're the second person to catch sight of something like that. Interesting.

[What he doesn't offer is what he saw. Only if Gideon decides she needs to know will he share.]

[frontlinetitties]

[A soft bloom of relief opens up in her at the sound of his deadpan response, at his perfect lack of concern. Not angry then, or upset, as she feels she might be had she something so close and personal to share as that, instead of the hard, ugly spaces of the Tomb.]

No fucking kidding. You never said your mother was a knock-out.

[There's the white light of her grin, a teasing arch of a brow. And hey, daddy was in the same ballpark, if you're into tall dark and male. She takes another sip of her whiskey, the bad aches in her slowly easing into the background of her awareness.]

It seemed like you had it pretty good for a while there.

[She says it and sounds almost wistful, makes no mention of what he may have gleaned from her. Not yet.]

[cryptsleeper]

[It's hard to get mad about someone else getting to see the better side of your parents, in Alucard's experience.]

I'm pretty sure I would never think of my mother in that particular way, and I am restraining the urge to kick you under the table.

[His own grin is smaller, but hey. He has to at least comment on that, if nothing else.]

It'd have been nice if it lasted. [Alucard's wistfulness matches Gideon's, prompting another drink.] But it existed for a time. That counts for a lot.

[It's not exactly peace. More coping, as long as Alucard does not dip into the details of what came to pass. Manageable.

Speaking of. Best to poke to bear.] I won't ask if you don't want to explain or get into details.

[princessvegas]

[ Wanda doesn't have to apologize -- Julie is no stranger to having her mind manipulated by outside forces. It was kind of a defining feature of her life for a while. It may even be something that Wanda can sense, a period of months where something was regularly monitoring her thoughts, amplifying certain feelings and behaviors. And beyond that, there is so much more pain and trauma, dealt with only via compartmentalization, ignoring it all entirely. Comparatively, Wanda being in there is absolutely nothing, barely noteworthy.

The easiest moment of happiness to find is recent, in one of the tents at the Summit. There are seven of them present, though Wanda may or may not know them all; besides Julie, there's Nadine and Lloyd, then Geralt, Jaskier, Ciri and Rinwell (who is accompanied by a small owl wearing clothes). Except for Rinwell, they've all clearly been drinking a lot of wine, their laughter loud and frequent. Geralt wears a coating of glitter, courtesy of that strange little animal, and he is good-naturedly, if begrudgingly, sitting still as Julie, Ciri and Jaskier cajole him into tolerating what is obviously a sleepover makeover. His nails are painted and they've braided his hair, even moreso than the little girls from Solvunn who snagged multiple people from this tent; most of them have flowers twined into their hair still. Even Nadine and Lloyd join in on the gentle, teasing reassurances that Geralt looks very beautiful like this. The little owl lands atop Geralt's head and settles there, hooting happily as the others crack up.

On the outside, Julie's face is still wet, but she isn't actively crying anymore, has stopped shaking. The panicked vise that had tightened around her chest is gone, and she can breathe again. Her hand clumsily takes Wanda's, mild confusion in her expression, but she doesn't seem at all upset. ]

Wanda?