EVENT #7: THE SIGHT

[abraxasmods]

Event #7 - The Sight

go to the OOC event info and plotting post

---

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

[meiren]

[ Something in that determined hovering and the way Wen Kexing is using it to deflect finally snaps what's left of Zhou Zishu's patience. Exasperation flickers through his expression as he reaches out and using one of Wen Kexing's fluttering hands to pull the man in against him, wrapping his other arm around his waist. If they're going to do this, he's going to make his stance clear from the start. ]

Tell me how your ascended your throne, Valley Master.

[ He doesn't sound frightened, or horrified. Mostly just firm and expecting an answer. ]

[meiren]

[ The dismissal is obvious, but something in it threads wryness through Zhou Zishu's expression. ]

And will you answer?

[ It's more rhetorical than not, an acknowledgement that even from the brief exchange Zhou Zishu can see the edges of the sort of conversationalist this man is.

But he follows it up by cupping his hands in front of himself to fold into a polite bow. ]

This one is called Zhou Zishu. I will do as you say.

[meiren]

Well that could have been any number of moments from his childhood, something Zhou Zishu acknowledges with a quiet huff that might be a laugh. The least of his worries, then.

But, a fair trade. He inclines his head slightly as he studies her. "More personal training for you. Noble?"

It's a bit more upfront than he'd normally be, but he's not actually trying to pull any information at the moment. More confirming what he'd actually seen, which is decidedly stranger. The things one gets used to in this place.

[itookashot]

Jesper wouldn't profess to know Kaz better than anyone else, although he thinks that he and Inej probably know him better than most, and she more than him. But Jesper's observant and he pays attention to Kaz when no one else does, his eyes always drift there like they have a mind of their own. Or maybe it's soothing to him, to look to someone who always has a plan, and how unsettling it is when he's out of sorts. He is confident he is right about this.

"Well, to be fair, few things say I love you better than a pirate ship." He intentionally leaves out her parents even though that is the obvious extra part of that, because he doesn't want to remind her, although he knows she doesn't need to be reminded. She knows. Being here is keeping her from a reunion she deserves. "Except I suppose the actual words." That Kaz is unlikely to say, because he does the sweeping gestures thing. He has found the words, occasionally. Jesper still holds the knowledge about 'Jordie' close to his chest, it warms his heart when he needs it, small as it may have been.

"I'm Zemeni, we do say sorry." She takes his hand at least, and there is that. He holds it loose and light, so she doesn't feel any pressure with it. "I really am going to kill him when we get back. No one would have to know." He can make it look accidental.

[meiren]

He watches with a very faint smile as she moves, watching with the kind of intensity of someone used to tracking people by their movement patterns. Not a martial artist in the way Zhou Zishu thinks of them, but she has impressive control none the less.

And is almost certainly hiding something about it, but that's fair enough. Zhou Zishu has plenty of secrets of his own and no real need for anyone else's at the moment.

"Well done," he says with a nod once she's on her feet again. He's never been the most effusive with his praise, but he can acknowledge skill. Even if it's not quite admitting that he's well aware the trick wasn't the whole of her ability. "You're up here often then."

[yeshou]

[ That question is too pointed to be an accident. Wen Kexing stills instantly, his constant, restless fluttering closing in on itself as an instinctive defense, even though it is too telling. He draws a breath that reaches all the way down, swallowing back the reaction to retreat.

Zhou Zishu was never meant to see that.

He's not ashamed of the past. That revenge was well-deserved, and he has no doubt that the leader of the Tian Chuang is well acquainted with violence, but certain things he never wanted to share. Knowing and seeing are two very different experiences, and part of him selfishly wants to preserve the good memories of Zhou Zishu as clean and better. Someone detached from the horrors of the Valley and his atrocities. He wants to avoid looking at him, but it's already too late for that. ]

You've heard of how ruthless the Valley is. There is only one way to rise up.

[ I'm not sorry. He forces himself to stand still, accepting the conversation as much as he can bear it. ]

They're only ghosts. It doesn't matter if we tear each other apart or even eat each other, right? Only the worst ghost can become the Valley Master.

[lackingtalent]

[Indeed, he does not hear the comfort that is offered. Yet he senses it, nonetheless. ...Or does he? His strides turn long again, most certainly. His back straightens, and where his hands had balled within his sleeves, they are straightened, fingers relaxed, even as he slows but a meter from the door. He has gathered himself. That is apparent. Whether or not it is because of that comfort that does not quite reach him, or for the sake of appearance to benefit those on the other side of the door, is unknown.

He knocks. Twice in total- and then he waits.
And he does turn back once more.]

You've moved. [Especially curious, for confluences don't do that! He smiles, faintly- though the look in his eyes indicates that there is sadness there.] What a strange little thing you are. Since you are clearly not a usual confluence, I would enjoy finding out what exactly you are... yet my aether reserves are spoken for.

[There is another glance toward the door. It does not open. It is utterly silent behind it. So. While he has yet time:]

If you can understand me and I have not taken leave of my senses by speaking to you, I would suggest quitting this place. Immediately. I very much doubt this is your choice.

[When all was well- for in Hythlodaeus' mind, it was a matter of when- whatever the phenomenon before him was would be discovered. Yet the thought is abandoned. There is a creak. The door seemingly opens by itself, into a large room that Emet-Selch would likely know very well- given that he himself had likely spent weeks at a time within the selfsame room during the conception of the vessel.

And within...
Are four walls.

One of which is divided, horizontally, into two. The lower level is nondescript. There is an upper level encased in glass, where some men and women in their robes, their masks, stand- surrounded by machinery. They speak.]

We apologize for the delay. Naturally, we have expedited the process of which aether is released from a body using the same means which is used within the Elpis facility and present difficulties aside-

[Their words should fade in and out. For Hythlodaeus' recollections of them are not exactly strong. The reason for such is- at least partially formed- in front of him. Or at least the head. The beginnings of claws are apparent- up until perhaps the first knuckle. The horns are only partially formed- dark purple aether glowing, dimly, as it is forming the rest.

The aether of those that came before him. Repurposed unto a single thought- a single entity- a single hope that even partially formed, towers above them all.

He cannot stop staring at it. It is still. Utterly silent and unmoving, yet the patterns on its mask change, entwine, and dimly pulsate, giving the impression that indeed, even as its body builds itself, it is alive in some form.]

...Incredible. I've never seen a concept as magnificent.

If you will approach...

[The door would then close.]

[itookashot]

"Well, if I got it the sickly way, I probably would've voluntarily gone to Ravka. As if I could allow myself to get all pale and unattractive, no thank you." There are aspects of this particular sickness that aren't going to go away because he is using his powers, he's learned that much. He still wants to gamble, and he uses the powers every day. So it's a question of what illness turned into habit, and that means vigilance. But he would hate being weak; if anything he is stronger, faster, more lethal, because of his flaws rather than in spite of them. Go figure.

He laughs. "Exactly, a disaster." Jesper is a manageable disaster with her there to look over his shoulder. He smiles at her with such fondness and adoration. "No, I love them. I love any gift from you." Jesper might not have figured it out before now, but he still treasured them. He carries them in his hidden pockets every day! It's an Inej thing, therefore it's precious to him. It is nice to understand though now.

He sticks his tongue out at her, like the mature person he is. "I can put you on any pedestal I want. I happen to like a saint who isn't a perfect person." His kind of saint. Jesper doesn't worship anything, honestly, or anyone. He doesn't think Inej is perfect, but she is in her imperfections. He lifts her hand and playfully places a kiss on her knuckles. "She would've liked you. So much." His mother.

[carmesi]

[even here throws a question into wanda's thoughts, as this is the first time she's experienced this kind of influx into her own mind. she leaves her questions for later, raising herself to her feet and reaching for sephiroth, a hand pressed on his back—

(a motion so familiar, so normal, an extension of herself, when she would check up on her older brother when he had exerted himself too much)

—and uses a small burst of magic to try and pulse out whatever pain sephiroth may be feeling, much like the migraine that contests her own head.]

I saw you... in a lab. [he knows what this is, doesn't he? what they just witnessed?] Are you alright?

[carmesi]

[wanda is not sure how this memory sharing situation works, exactly, but she doesn't think they would be 'allowed' to just sit on it and let it pass. it would go past them, one way or the other. she shakes her head slightly at his question, turning to look at him again, as if to say she doesn't really know.

but then she can't help it, bringing a hand up to push his hair back, the motion of a nervous sister—or a nervous mother, really—as if to reassure him that nothing here would be off limits for him.]

No, it's alright.

[bringing her hand down, she takes purposeful steps towards the door, pulling down the handle that makes it push open on its metal hinges. the memory behind them is already dissipating, left to hang on peter's words about how he doesn't have any other clothes. they step inside and away from the golden glow of the afternoon sun in new york city to the cold and dreary blues of HYDRA's facility. the floors are cold, made of stone, and there are scientists and other staff milling about. it's storming outside, the walls shaking with the booming power of thunder.

she holds her breath at the familiarity of the glass-encased rooms she and pietro had been separated into after they had been experimented on. but those rooms stand empty, and wanda follows instead what she remembers, into the room they had been allowed to stay in before being 'launched' against the avengers in sokovia. there is a blur of white and blue, in and out the door, and wanda leads peter to follow inside.]

Pietro would sneak out a lot; who could stop him? Always sneaking into the kitchens. His speed made him feel hungry a lot.

[there, inside the room, pietro shares what he was able to get from the kitchens: nothing quite exciting in a HYDRA facility, but there was jell-o and pudding cups. he and wanda share the same bed, though another one is available. his arms are around wanda, getting her to eat something sweet, their voices hushed in their mother tongue.]

I had many nightmares, especially after we came here. I could hear... everyone's thoughts, so Pietro would always sit close, make sure I could only hear his.

[wanda, the one who holds on to peter's hand, turns to the boy to smile, a sad kind of smile. pietro, in the memory, presses his head against wanda, and slurps up jell-o from its plastic cup.]

He would think of the silliest songs to put in his head so I would have to hear them in his thoughts.

[earthborn]

Thanks, I'd appreciate it. [Carbs and protein, not as good as sugar, but pretty good.] I've got my own camp that way, if you'd rather.

[She jerks a thumb in the approximate direction.]

Biotic work takes it out of you.

[princessvegas]

[ Back in reality, Julie has her hands on either side of his face, her brows furrowed deeply with concern. There's nothing she can actually do to help, just wait, and it's clearly a major frustration to her. She's not a person who does nothing; she may not always make the right call, and sometimes her call is to just go find someone to take care of the problem for her, but she always does something. But all she can do right now is just hold on until it's over.

Sam seems to come back into himself, albeit shaky, and she gasps with relief, her eyes searching his face. ] Sam, oh my god, are you okay? I'm so sorry, whatever you saw, I am so sorry.

[ She really is. It isn't that she has no good memories -- she does, of course. But nothing looms as large as the horrible things she's seen, lived through. Even Nadine, a woman from the exact same world and timeline, had been upset by Julie's memories. Julie doesn't really expect anyone else to see anything better. ]

[cointosser]

[Jaskier laughs quietly.] Feels rather good to hear you say it.

[He knows. There was no way Geralt came to him asking for "help" he didn't need, looking like someone's dog that's been stuck in a rainstorm and is begging for a bit of shelter and a pat on the head, without knowing he'd been an utter cock. Without even knowing a bloody thing about what Jaskier had spent his time doing.

Jaskier takes a deep breath, holds it, releases it. He nods.

A rare thing it is, he thinks, to hear such quick reassurance. And it feels all the more meaningful for its rarity.]

Here. You may as well scrub yourself before it happens again. If it does. [He hopes not. If only because he knows Geralt hates this, the headache is rather awful, and Jaskier feels utterly exhausted by it now.] If you ask me, I think we can do just as good to this world.

[Geralt didn't ask. And Jaskier doesn't need to say it, but he wants to hear the words out loud, his intentions building themselves into something real, solid. There are no elves here, but there is always suffering. There is always looming war.]

[carmesi]

Perhaps.

[and he certainly was. not a day goes by without the memory of having to kill him replaying in her mind—to put a hole in the head of the man she loved for it to mean nothing in the end. bitter was the sudden end of their relationship.

without vision, wanda had no anchor. has no anchor.

she turns to jasper.]

I will keep your memory to myself. I promise no one will hear of it from me.

[because, even without saying it with words, jasper has become something of a... friend, to her, despite his cold demeanor and his harsh words. she would do everything to respect his space.]

[carmesi]

Old enough to not need his dad.

[she teases, but fully sympathizes. she doesn't know what it's like to be twenty with living parents, and how she would have reacted in her own life at that age under those circumstances. and her boys? well.]

My boys were ten when I saw them last. [said with a bit of a sigh, a shake of her head.] I think parents will always worry regardless of the age, right?

[wanda pulls her shawl closer, the path they take diverging away from the main area of the settlement.]

I can't imagine them being twenty and me allowing them entirely free reins.

[carmesi]

A name, a face — a man who makes his dreams reality, including a functional, biological baby brother. This is a man she should keep in the forefront of her thoughts.

The world around them starts to fade away, their thoughts and memories unbinding themselves.

"Ronan Lynch," she repeats, "I'll find you."

She knows where he is. She knows his name.

And this moment they share disappears.

[carmesi]

There is no one I would tell.

[she shakes her head, stepping down her porch but keeping close enough to the railing. so geralt has come here, concerned for his daughter, wanting to protect her—wanting to know that the person this 'secret' spilled to will keep quiet about it.

wanda doesn't see it as a threat, either, but it probably helps that she has no intention of giving up what she saw to anyone.

but, something stands—just how dangerous could she be not just to herself, but to all of them?]

If you need it, I can help. But I'll keep this between us. You have my word.

[thearchangel]

[1918... that's. Let him do the math. The galaxy has their calendar mostly standardized by now - and last he'd checked it had been 2185. Boy does he hate being the bearer of weird news.]

That's... almost three hundred years in our past. [By most calendars, anyway. The asari probably have more years chalked up.] But that's what I mean, by timelines. People are saying we can be pulled from anywhere. Any when.

[As for the extinction part... he grimaces. Scratching at the scarred side of his face.]

Apparently, every fifty-thousand years, giant mechanical AI called Reapers show up out of dark space. Harvest all organic life that's progressed past the stone age. Then vanish again. We're trying to put an end to that whole cycle.

[gynvael]

[ A sharp little exhale falls from his lips. Undoubtedly. (He did not, it is true, need Jaskier's help. Not like that. But he had needed him.) ]

As far as I've seen, it's not yet happened twice. [ Even if one spends a couple hours or so with someone. With extended physical contact. But who fucking knows with the Singularity. The only predictable aspect of it is its unpredictability.

He scrubs. Having not travelled recently, there is much less to scrub than his usual. No dried blood, no dirt and gore. Just dust and sand. The air fills with the smell of sage and a hint of citrus. Geralt cares not at all about what kind of soap, has never cared, and has long made a habit of using whatever Jaskier hands him. So long as he doesn't smell overly of sugar and florals. Partly because of the scent itself, but equally because the strength of it gives him a damn headache. ]

Hm. [ We. He's not certain he wants to include himself in that. His only desire is to keep his people safe. He gives no fucks about good for the sake of it. That's not who he is. ] You've certainly filled it with your songs.

[cointosser]

Really? [He sighs.] That's a relief, honestly. Not that I've anything against you seeing more, personally, but -- I'm rather shit at handling headaches.

[And he does not say something selfish, though he thinks it: he would not mind seeing more of Geralt's memories. But he's not a fool. He knows plenty are horrible. All he needs to do is go to that basement in Kaer Morhen to be reminded.

It's... he's glad, though. That Geralt recalls such a simple thing as a good memory. The warmth he'd felt through the vision still rests in his chest, helping him relax back against the other side of the tub, watching Geralt wash.

Jaskier grins all of a sudden, splashing Geralt with a flick of his hand.] Ah! So you think my songs are good, then? Spreading good? Oh, Geralt, you fucking softie.

[It is not, of course, the first time Geralt has implied so. However, Jaskier intends to treat every single time it occurs as if it was the first time -- because it brings that sort of joy to him every time.]

[gynvael]

Trust me, I know. [ His reply is wry. Skirts, deliberately, the subject of memories that should and should not be shared. Jaskier knows fucking well what lurks inside his mind.

There is a reason Jaskier has not returned to his domain since. Not that he was often there in the first place, but...they don't speak of it, either. Nor of the fact that he cannot rid of it, no matter how hard he tries. If he could, he'd have told Jaskier so. His silence on the matter tells enough: it remains, lurking. Haunting.

He sighs. Scrubs his hair some more with the kind of roughness that suggests he's no care for the state of his hair so long as it's passably clean. ] I'm saying it could be worse.

[ He isn't a softie. ]

[frontlinetitties]

The brief praise rings bright through her in a way only possible for people who are desperately unused to it. High praise from Aiglamene had always consisted of back-handed compliments and the occasional 'well, that wasn't utterly terrible', and those moments had once been exciting enough. She's still quietly glittering from it - grin big and raw and crooked - when Ciri follows through with her question.

Gideon pauses in the dust, the point of her blade resting against the ground, one hand loose around the grip. Her heart is still juddering in her chest from the thrill of the fight, and she's yet to come out of that hot and dreamy space reserved only for battle. She's rusty with lag-time as she starts checking herself over, trying to feel something besides the electric buzz of adrenaline.

"Nah, I don't think so..." she's saying, just as her hand brushes her right side, the unguarded muscle beneath her ribs, and her fingertips come away bloody. "...Huh."

She heals fast these days, thanks to the strange boons of their new host planet. The fact that she's still bleeding means that something must have caught her deep.

[supersoldier]

[He can read the uptick in tension. For all of his walled-off demeanor, observing others with some accuracy had never been difficult for him. But if this man is willing to speak on the matter, then Sephiroth has no reason to not offer even more questions.

For as long as he's allowed.]

Then you were at war?

[supersoldier]

So it would appear. This place doesn't care too much for privacy.

[He is not a veteran to the Horizon at this point. Though he is almost certain that this is not the normal state of affairs, there is something about its malleability that makes Sephiroth believe memories slipping into a stranger's head is not so far-fetched.]

Why?

[That seems the most obvious question, the most straightforward though cast in a general light. Why do it? Why was it worth it? What is the man's justification for turning into such a creature?]

[sorser]

The comparison is unavoidable, given that Stephen's only experience with Dreamers happens to be with the man who re-created his Cloak of Levitation practically upon arrival. However, he doesn't quite miss the slight shift in her expression after mentioning it — and wonders, then, at the nature of their relationship.

"He rolls out the welcome wagon in a way that's hard to miss," he says, brow quirking. He imagines that's purposeful, but Stephen will definitely not complain in this case. His cloak has been useful, and then some.

"You, though." Stephen pauses, considering. Prying subtly. "I'm guessing you're more keen to keep your abilities to yourself?"